Moments in Time
by The King's Soldier
Summary: The story of Lieutenant Washington's life told as a series of moments through the eyes of her commanding officer.
1. 2124 AD: First Sight

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Terra Nova. Duh.

Author's Note: This fic is a string of ideas that popped into my head as a sort of backstory for Wash. It is based off the backstory I have given her in my fic "Worth Dying For" and is her story told as a sequence of key moments through Taylor's eyes. I'm still not sure how I feel about it, so feedback is much appreciated. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>First Sight<strong>

She's eleven years old the first time he sees her. He's thirty-two at the time, back on temporary leave to see the birth of his son, which could be any day now. He and Ayani are so excited they can barely contain themselves.

"It is good to be home," his friend Jenkins says with a wide grin as they walk down the street together. He elbows Taylor's arm. "What'd you miss the most? Besides your wife, of course."

"Well it wasn't the air, I can tell you that," Taylor says. The smog is worse than ever it seems. Especially now with the two of them coming back from a province where the airborne pollutant levels are still relatively low compared to the rest of the planet.

"You got that one right," Jenkins says. "You know they're trying to pass a law requiring everybody to wear those rebreathers?"

"It'll cost a damn fortune to make that many," Taylor says, trying to suppress a cough.

"But at least people would be able to breathe again," Jenkins points out.

"They still can some places," Taylor reminds him. "You go down to Africa the air's clear enough you can still see the stars most nights."

"Well I don't know about you," Jenkins says, "but I'm not planning on moving to Africa any time soon. Too much fighting for my taste." He looks over at Taylor, a grin on his face. "And neither are you, if Ayani has anything to say about it. You're about to have a kid to think about! You got a name yet?"

"Lucas," Taylor says, his face catching that contagious grin Jenkins always wears.

"That's a good name," Jenkins says.

"Ayani picked it out." Taylor can hardly wait to see his wife. After the last seven months sleeping in trenches with firefights raging all around him, it'll be nice to sleep in a warm bed again with his wife beside him.

"I still can't believe it," Jenkins says, giving Taylor a joking shove. "You're finally gonna be a father!"

Taylor is about to comment, but a commotion behind them cuts him short. He and Jenkins both turn in time to see a table selling newspapers flip over. A girl, the one who flipped the booth, leaps out of the way and keeps running. There's a cop hot on her heels. Child thieves are far from unusual these days, and Taylor almost turns away. But there's something about this girl that captures his attention. She's skinny with jet-black hair that's short and ragged. Her clothes are worn and don't fit quite right, likely stolen for necessity rather than size. Around her neck hangs a pair of dog tags that probably once belonged to a dead parent. She's remarkably fast for her age, somehow managing to stay one step ahead of the cop. And there's something about her fiery brown eyes that catches Taylor and keeps him from looking away.

Another cop down the street sees the girl coming and reaches out to catch her. She ducks and rams his legs, using her weight to flip him over. The force of it, however, takes her to the ground as well. She staggers to her feet just as the first cop reaches her. She struggles hard, kicking and punching and trying to wriggle free. It takes both of them to get a pair of cuffs on her. By that point one of them has a nose gushing blood and the other is limping because of a kick that nearly broke his shin.

They haul the still struggling girl to her feet and begin to drag her down the street. She looks up and her eyes meet Taylor's. For a brief moment time seems to stop. Maybe it's the fire in her eyes, he doesn't know. There's just something about her that he can't seem to turn away from. Then her head turns and the moment is gone. He continues to stare after her for a moment until she and her captors disappear around down a side street.

"Sad, isn't it?" Jenkins says. "There's so many of them with nowhere to go. The state won't help them. Most of them will eventually end up in jail." He reaches over and claps a hand on Taylor's shoulder. "Come on. Let's get you home to your wife."

"Right," Taylor says. They turn and continue walking down the street together.

Ayani is overjoyed to see him. He's barely home three hours before her water breaks, and after ten more in labor she finally gives birth to their son, Lucas Nathaniel Taylor. In the ensuing excitement Taylor all but forgets about the girl on the street. But something about her lingers in the back of his mind, waiting to resurface.

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><p>Leave a review and let me know what you think!<p> 


	2. 2131 AD:  Wanted: Medic

Disclaimer: If I did own Terra Nova, wouldn't I be spending my time writing fanfiction or the second season? (Which they better get!)

Author's Note: Special thanks to everyone who gave the first chapter a thumbs-up. Without your input there might not have been a second chapter.

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><p><strong>Wanted: Medic<strong>

She's eighteen when he offers her a job. He doesn't know it's her, of course. All he knows is that he needs a medic and Alicia Washington is the best graduate in her class. And the two above her. Granted, she's known for having a rebellious streak. But her instructors have also grudgingly admitted that when she disobeys orders in training scenarios she ends up being right nine times out of ten, and while Taylor understands the value of obedience, he also likes people who trust their instincts. His own have saved him more times than he can count.

"You do know that you can have just about any medic you want," Jenkins says, looking out the window at the smoggy streets below. Taylor has already established himself as a force to be reckoned with in the military world, climbing the ladder faster than most people can blink. He has many friends in high places who can see that he gets assigned just about anyone he wants.

"I know that," Taylor says. "But I want somebody fresh. Somebody who doesn't have another man's fingerprints all over them."

"So you'd rather take a chance with a newbie?" Jenkins asks, skeptical.

"Have you seen her record?" Taylor asks. "She's top of her class. Her marksmanship is incredible. She's got a good head for strategy. She thinks on her feet and does well under pressure. When it comes to survival she's a genius. And she's a great medic."

"She's still just a kid," Jenkins says. "This is dangerous stuff we do, Taylor. We're talking about covert ops in Somalia. You sure this kid can handle it?"

"Why don't you ask her yourself?" Taylor asks.

The door to the office opens and the officer in charge of the base enters. Behind him is a girl of eighteen dressed in standard military issue clothing. Taylor blinks. Her hair is brushed and tightly pulled back, her face is clean, her clothes are well-fitting, and the dog tags around her neck are now her own, but he still recognizes her immediately. The girl from the street. He can tell by her eyes though that she doesn't remember him, and a quick look at Jenkins says he doesn't remember her, so Taylor decides not to say anything.

"Colonel Taylor," the officer says, "this is Private Alicia Washington."

The girl snaps him a smart salute and stands at attention.

"At ease, Private," Taylor says. Her arms relax a bit, but her back is still straight and her head high. Her eyes still have that same fire he saw that day in the street. The Academy didn't completely break her. That's good. Right now those eyes are busy studying him. Taylor crosses his arms over his chest and looks her up and down.

"Alicia Washington," he says conversationally. "That's a big name for a skinny kid."

Her jaw tightens, but she keeps herself in check. So she doesn't do well with being looked down on. Fair enough. And she definitely has a temper underneath all that training. That's okay by Taylor though. Anger can be a good thing sometimes. He can teach her how to use it.

"How about I call you Wash," he says. It's a sort of peace offering, an apology for offending her. "You okay with that?"

"If you say so, sir." The muscle in her jaw relaxes. She's willing to give him a chance. But he'll have to play his cards carefully because there won't be another.

"Wash, I have a proposition for you," Taylor says, leaning back against the officer's desk. "I'm in charge of a small unit that runs covert operations. Mostly recon and sabotage. I can't go in to all the details, or I'd have to kill you." The corner of his mouth turns up in a small smile. Alicia Washington doesn't respond. Not really the type for humor, apparently. That's okay. They can work on that one later.

"Right now I have everyone I need except a medic. I want somebody fresh, and I've been told that you're the best. But I have to warn you, this is not an easy job. We spend a lot of time sitting in the middle of nowhere and the rest of it running in and out of firefights. Conditions are rough, but the pay is good. And it'll give you a chance to get some real experience that will be highly respected. What do you say?"

She's silent a moment, carefully turning it over in her head. Then she says guardedly, "When do we leave, sir?"

"That's the spirit," Taylor says, a grin on his face. He stands up and claps her on the shoulder. She doesn't respond. He turns, his hand still on her shoulder, and motions at Jenkins. "Wash, this is Major Jenkins, my second in command."

Jenkins holds out his hand and after a second's hesitation she does the same.

"Glad to have you along, Private," he says.

"Thank-you, sir," she says in that same business-like tone. This girl will definitely have to be warmed up a little. But there will be plenty of time for that later.

"We leave for Somalia four days from now," Taylor tells her. "I'll send a man over tomorrow with everything you need to know."

"I'll be waiting, sir."

As they leave the office Taylor looks over at Jenkins.

"What do you think?" he asks. Jenkins shrugs.

"I think we're about to find out."

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><p>Fanfiction math is as follows: the speed with which a story is updated is directly proportional to the happiness of the author, which is directly proportional to the number of reviews said author recieves. ;)<p> 


	3. 2131 AD: A Stitch in Time

Disclaimer: Wait... *checks copyright* Nope, still don't own it.

Author's Note: Thank-you again to my faithful reviewers. Your input makes my day. :)

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><p><strong>A Stitch in Time<strong>

She's been in Somalia for three weeks when she has to do her first set of stitches. At night. In the back of a moving rover. With rockets firing all over the place.

Their team had been tasked with sneaking in to a Somalian camp and stealing back a piece of hardware with vital information about the army's location and movements. Getting in was easy, especially at night. But on the way out someone trips some kind of hidden alarm and the next thing they know they're being fired upon by a squad of guards. And then Beckman's on the ground with a hole blown in his side.

"Get him up!" Taylor yells, firing at their attackers. He's never left a man behind, and he's not about to start now.

Jenkins and Reese hit the ground and haul Beckman to his feet amidst flying bullets while the others provide covering fire. Blood is everywhere. Beckman is holding on to consciousness by a thread, but he is at least coherent enough to gets his hands over the wound. Unfortunately it does little to stop the river of blood.

It's a heart-stopping run back to the waiting rovers. Gunfire is everywhere as the camp awakens to their presence. Light floods the area. Men are shouting orders and running for their weapons. Collins gets her shoulder nicked by a bullet and Harrison is flung into a wall by a blast, but otherwise the rest of them are remarkably unscathed. By the time they reach the rovers the Somalians have added rockets to the mix. Jenkins and Reese set Beckman in the back of one of the rovers and Wash jumps in after him.

"Trial by fire, kid," Reese tells her, clapping a hand on her shoulder. He grabs the side of the rover, aiming his gun behind them, and Taylor leaps into the driver's seat. Jenkins, Harrison, and Collins grab the other rover. Then they're off, driving like mad through the wilderness with Somalian vehicles hot on their tail.

Taylor pulls a hairpin turn to avoid a rocket blast and risks a glance over his shoulder at Wash. She has a flashlight tied to something to help her see in the darkness, and now she's crouched beside an unconscious Beckman trying to stop the bleeding. Blood is everywhere. She's using her knee to hold a blanket over his side while she tries to get a needle out and ready. Then a blast hits the side of the rover and Taylor has to turn back to the road.

"How's it look, Wash?" he calls. So far he's the only member of the team to call her that. She's the youngest by six years after Harrison, and so the rest of them tend to just call her "kid". She doesn't seem to mind.

"He's losing blood fast, sir," she says.

"Stitch him up!" Taylor calls.

"I'm trying!" she yells. The fact that the sentence fails to end with her customary "sir" speaks volumes about the situation.

The rover hits a huge bump and Reese has to grab hold with both hands to keep from being thrown off. There's a loud sound in the back as Wash's head hits the roof and she curses. At another time Taylor might have laughed. But right now the rockets are coming in hot and his maneuvers are getting crazier and crazier to avoid them. Thankfully he can see them coming against the night sky. He's having a hard enough time avoiding them all. He can only imagine what it must be like trying to do surgery at this moment.

"Sir!" Wash yells. There's fear in her voice. Considering that she never shows much emotion at all, Taylor knows she's truly in a panic.

"You got this, Wash," he says calmly.

"There's too much movement!" Wash yells. A rocket hits the ground directly behind the rover and dirt flies everywhere.

"If you don't close that wound now he'll die!" Taylor reminds her, his voice hard.

"Sir-"

"You can do this," Taylor assures her. He glances over his shoulder and meets her panicked eyes. He gives her a nod and after a second she nods back. Then she looks down at Beckman and digs on.

It takes them a good fifteen minutes of swerving and shooting and dodging before they're finally clear. Fifteen minutes of driving like mad through African wasteland with only the rover's headlights to see by as they try to avoid the hailstorm of bullets and rockets raining down around them. When they finally do manage to lose their pursuers Taylor turns back around as Reese slumps in the passenger seat, relieved. Wash is leaning against the side of the rover, a little frazzled but otherwise okay. Beckman is still covered in red, but there's no new blood appearing.

"All clear back there?" Taylor asks. Wash looks out into the darkness and then nods.

"Good to go, sir."

The base camp the team is currently staying at is a good hour away, but Beckman is still breathing when they arrive. They rush him to the medical tent, and then they wait. Taylor takes the hardware to the general along with a quick summary of the mission. Ten minutes later he's back waiting with the other five members of his team.

"Any word yet?" he asks. Jenkins shakes his head.

"Nothing."

They stand together in silence, waiting. Wash is particularly uptight. Taylor doesn't believe in luck, but if he did he would have his fingers crossed. This is her first real job with the unit and he knows she'll blame herself if anything happens to Beckman.

After what seems like an eternity a doctor finally comes out of the tent.

"He'll live," he says. The team lets out a collective sigh of relief. Reese and Harrison clap Wash on the back, but she doesn't react. "He lost a lot of blood, but we gave him a transfusion. As far as I can tell everything else is okay. I am recommending a month's leave to allow him to recover and to make sure there isn't any serious damage we have yet to discover. But after that he should be as good as new." He turns to Wash. "You did a remarkable job."

Wash nods, but otherwise she still gives no reaction.

"Alright," Taylor says. "Time to get some shut eye. We have a debriefing at 0700, and I don't want anybody complaining about being tired."

The team turns and slowly wanders off together, bidding each other good night as they go. Taylor stays by the medical tent. He wants to see Beckman for himself before he turns in. He waits until Wash and Collins break off to go to their own tent before calling after them.

"Wash."

"Sir?" she says, turning back.

"You did good today," Taylor says, giving her an affirming nod. It might just be his imagination, but he could swear she stands a little straighter after he says it.

"Thank-you, sir."

It's the closest he's seen her come to a smile.

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><p>As always, please leave a review. :) And if you haven't already, feel free to check out my other Terra Nova fics: "Worth Dying For" (a one-shot about Wash's thoughts during her final scenes) and "All You Wanted" (a collection I've just started of scenes Skye and Elisabeth should have had during the season).<p> 


	4. 2131 AD: Hell of a Papercut

Disclaimer: Don't own it and probably never will.

Author's Note: Thank-you again to all my faithful reviewers. I love getting your feedback. :) Hopefully this fic continues to live up to your expectations. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Hell of a Paper Cut<strong>

They've been in the field four months when she has to stitch him up for the first time. Not to say that it's the first time he's gotten wounded since she's been there. Quite the opposite. Taylor has something of a knack for acquiring cuts and bruises. This is just the first one he's deemed worthy of stitches. Which of course means that it's quite a big one.

They were sent in to take out a supply convoy. Ambushing it is easy enough, as is gunning down the rebels with it. The fact the only real injury happens when Taylor opens a rover door to find that a dying man has holed himself up inside. A gunshot finishes the job, but not before the man lands a machete blow to Taylor's arm.

"You alright, sir?" Collins asks, running up behind him.

"It'll take more than that to finish me off," Taylor says. He twists his neck to examine his bleeding arm. The cut runs the diagonal length of his upper arm. It's pretty deep and some of the muscle has been sliced, but it shouldn't be too detrimental. It is bleeding pretty good though.

"You should get that stitched," Collins says.

"Yeah," Taylor says. He looks around for Wash. She's a few rovers down with Beckman, who is showing them all how to set the charges. He's recovered nicely and is eager for the chance to finely put his explosives expertise to work. "Hey Wash!"

"Sir?" she calls.

"I got a job for you," he says, turning so she can see his bleeding arm. Wash says something to Beckman and then runs over to them. Taylor turns back to Collins. "Go help the others. Take whatever we can carry and blow the rest."

"On it," Collins says. She goes to join the others as Wash reaches Taylor.

"What happened, sir?" Wash asks, carefully inspecting his arm.

"One of them wasn't quite dead," Taylor says. "I fixed that pretty quick."

"You should probably sit down for this, sir," Wash says. Taylor sits down on the grass with his back against the rover's tire. Wash pulls off her pack and begins to dig through it. It only takes her a moment to find a needle and thread it. She swabs his arm with alcohol, which stings.

"Sorry, sir," Wash says.

"You're fine," Taylor assures her. "It's not the first time I've had stitches."

The young medic works in silence, quickly pulling the needle back and forth. Taylor sits and watches the rest of his team. They work quickly and efficiently. Collins and Harrison check though the supplies for anything useful that they can carry. Beckman and Jenkins follow behind them, setting charges. Reese has climbed up on the top of a rover with his gun and is busy keeping watch.

Wash finishes quickly. She ties off the stitches and begins to clean her needle. Taylor carefully flexes his arm. The muscle hurts like hell, but the stitches are holding.

"You'll have to be careful with it for a while, sir," Wash says as she packs up her gear.

"This is nothing to worry about," Taylor says, getting to his feet. "I've had a hell of a lot worse than this. This is just a paper cut."

"Hell of a paper cut, sir," Wash says seriously. Taylor stares at her a moment and then lets out a chuckle.

"So you do have a sense of humor," he says, smiling.

"If you say so, sir," Wash says.

"You know, Wash," Taylor says, "you don't have to end every damn sentence with 'sir.' Jusst saying it here and there is good enough."

"Is that an order, sir?" Wash asks, her tone neutral.

"Would you listen if it was?" Taylor asks. She shrugs. "Alright, then yes, it's an order."

"If you say so, Colonel." Wash's face is carefully blank, but Taylor can see a tiny gleam in her eyes.

"Get out of here," he says, swatting her arm in mock anger. "Go do something useful."

Wash shoulders her pack and heads over to join the others. As she turns away Taylor catches sight of a grin on her face.

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><p>As always, leave a review and let me know what you think. :)<p> 


	5. 2131 AD: Beer Cans and Star Charts

Disclaimer: Still don't own it.

Author's Note: Seeing as Wash has no family of her own in my story, I think she would have gotten to know Taylor's pretty well. This is the beginning of that relationship, as well as a little bit of background on the other people I placed in Taylor's unit. It's also a bit longer than the rest of them. :) Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Beer Cans and Star Charts<strong>

She's been in the field a little over six months when the team gets a month off. It's over the holidays and Ayani is eager to meet the team he talks so much about in his letters, so the day after Christmas they invite them all over for dinner. Jenkins shows up first, of course, seeing as he's been to the Taylor household more times than either of them can count. They talk about each other's children and how Christmas went. Harrison and Collins are next. They've developed an odd sort of brother-sister relationship over the last six months that involves a combination of driving each other crazy and yet having each other's backs no matter what.

Wash shows up at six o'clock on the dot. It says a lot about her character. The other members of Taylor's team relax a bit when he lets them and even more when they're on vacation. Wash, on the other hand, seems to have only one setting: military. But she has dressed down a bit. Her black military armor has been replaced by a black hoodie and a pair of jeans. Her hair is still pulled tightly back, however, and her dog tags are hanging outside the hoodie. And she's still wearing her army boots.

"Come on in," Taylor says, waving her inside. Wash steps in, her hands buried deep in the pockets of her hoodie. She looks slightly uncomfortable. "You have a good Christmas, Wash?"

"I guess so, sir," she says. He's given up trying to get her to stop saying "sir" at the end of every sentence. In fact, he's finding that he's becoming rather attached to that quirk of hers.

Wash's eyes roam over the inside of the house, taking it all in. Lucas, all of seven years old now, is sitting at the table with Harrison, but he jumps up when he sees Wash.

"You're Wash," he says, a grin plastered on his face.

"Wash, this is my son Lucas," Taylor says. Lucas proudly holds out his hand and Wash shakes it.

"I'm seven," Lucas says proudly.

"I'm eighteen," Wash says a bit awkwardly.

"I know," Lucas says, talking in that fast way of his. "Dad talks about you all the time. He's really glad you're with his team. He says you're really talented and a great medic and you have a lot of potential. He thinks you'll make a really good officer someday."

"Okay, that's enough," Taylor says, smiling at his son. He can feel Wash looking at him but he doesn't return the look. "Lucas, why don't you go play with your new toys."

"Mom says I have to stay in my room after dinner," Lucas says. He points to a doorway down the hall. "That's my room. If you get bored you can come in and I'll show you my toys."

"Okay," Wash says. Lucas grins at her and then runs to his room.

"He likes you," Taylor says, a grin on his face.

"Did you really say those things, sir?" Wash asks, turning to look up at her C.O.

"Yes I did," Taylor says honestly. "I meant them, too."

"Thank-you, sir," Wash says, gratitude written across her face.

Ayani spots them then and immediately comes forward.

"You must be Alicia," she says with a warm smile. She hugs Wash, to which the young medic isn't completely sure how to react. "It's so good to finally meet you. Nathaniel has told me all about you."

Wash gives Taylor an uncertain look, but he just smiles at her. Ayani steps aside and motins toward the table.

"Please, come in," she says, still smiling warmly.

Reese shows up a minute later, leaving Beckman to arrive fifteen minutes late. Taylor stops him in the doorway to give him a fake lecture on military discipline and then they both start laughing.

Dinner is delicious, a fact all of them mention often. Ayani just smiles and tells them to eat up. When they finish eating Lucas wanders off to his room while the adults sit around the table and talk. Wash doesn't say much. Not that Taylor really expects her to, but still. Ayani takes the dishes to clean up, adamantly refusing any help her guests offer. Harrison has brought over some beer and they decide to break it out.

The night goes by in a rush of laughter and conversation. The beer keeps coming, but one by one they all draw the line. Everyone knows their limit and no one is going to get drunk with Taylor's family around. Soon Taylor and Wash are the only ones still drinking.

"Damn," Reese says, shaking his head. "Kid sure knows how to hold her alcohol."

"Where do you put it all?" Beckman asks jokingly. Wash doesn't comment.

"This isn't the first time you've had a drink, is it?" Jenkins asks. It's really more of a statement than a question. Anyone who can drink that much with no side effects has obviously done it before.

"No," Wash says simply. For some reason she never calls Jenkins "sir" unless she's being given an order. Just Taylor. Now that he thinks about it, she doesn't say much at all to the rest of them.

"Well I know you weren't drinking in the Academy," Collins says. "They'd skin you alive if you got caught."

"You speak from experience?" Harrison asks with a grin. Collins just grins smugly in response.

"So how did you get it?" Reese asks, looking at Wash. He's obviously expecting some crazy story about a rebellious group of recruits who hid alcohol in their barracks.

"I stole it," Wash says, staring down at her can. "Before the recruiters."

"Before..." Reese trails off, shocked. That was definitely not what he was expecting.

"That's crazy!" Harrison says. "You must've only been, what, twelve?"

"Eleven," Wash corrects, her face unreadable. "Six when I started."

"_Six_?" Collins whistles. "What were you doing with alcohol?" Wash is silent a moment and Taylor can tell this is something she doesn't like to talk about.

"Surviving," she says simply. Her voice is just as unreadable as her face. She looks up. "You don't feel cold or hungry with alcohol in your blood."

The table is dead silent.

"You were a street kid," Beckman says finally, understanding. Wash suddenly looks very uncomfortable. Instead of answering she suddenly pushes back her chair and gets up.

"Excuse me," she says awkwardly.

She turns and heads down the hall. The rest of the unit sits in silence. No one really knows what to say.

"And I thought I was hard up," Reese says, shaking his head. "Both my older sisters had to leave school and work just so we could keep the apartment. My dad paid a recruiter to take me so at least one of us would have enough to eat."

"They showed up at my school when I was twelve and held tryouts," Collins says. It's a common practice in most districts. Beckman nods.

"My older brother's in the army," he says. "He pulled some strings to get me picked."

"My whole family has always been in the army," Jenkins says. "I was on the Academy's watch list from almost the minute I was born."

"Harrison?" Reese asks. Harrison is staring into his empty can, looking almost embarrassed.

"I got caught stealing," he admits. "But it isn't what you would think. My family was actually pretty wealthy. But my dad drove me crazy so I hung out with a bad crowd. They dared me to do it. The cops gave me a choice: jail or the Academy."

"What about you, Colonel?" Beckman asks, looking over at Taylor.

"I volunteered," Taylor says. "My dad was a doctor, wanted me to be just like him. But I always wanted to be a soldier. Soon as I turned ten I walked myself over to the recruiting office and asked if they'd take me." Reese shakes his head, a grin on his face.

"I just can't believe she hit the streets at six," Collins says, shaking her head. "How did she survive?"

"She's a tough kid," Taylor says.

The conversation picks itself up and keeps going. After a good thirty minutes Wash still hasn't come back. Taylor excuses himself and gets up to try and find her. She isn't in the bathroom like he expects, and he knows the front door didn't open. So where...

Hearing voices, he goes over and carefully cracks open the door to Lucas' bedroom. The sight that greets him warms his heart. Lucas has dimmed the lights and turned on his star projector, which creates an adjustable holographic dome mimicking the night sky. A touch to a star will give its scientific name, distance from earth, what type of star it is, and who discovered it and when. Lucas has memorized almost all of them by heart, particularly those that he knows hang beyond the smog over his home. The hologram is currently set to take up the entire room, and Lucas and Wash are lying on their backs beneath it. Taylor notes that the projector has been set to show the African stars. Wash is pointing out the constellations she lays beneath every night in the jungle and telling Lucas their common names. When she finishes with one Lucas proceeds to tell her everything he knows about each star in it. Then one of them picks out another constellation and they start again.

Lucas is visibly thrilled at the chance to both share his knowledge and gain more. A wide smile covers his face. It is Wash's face, however, that catches Taylor. He has seen her calm and collected, but this is the first time he has ever seen her so relaxed. Lucas says something and a real honest to goodness smile crosses Wash's face. It makes Taylor realize just how much of a child Wash still is. She may be a highly trained field medic who has already seen action, but she's still only eighteen.

Suddenly she catches sight of Taylor and freezes. He holds a finger to his lips telling her not to disturb the moment. Then he smiles and gives her a thumbs-up. Wash smiles tentatively back and returns to listening to Lucas, who still has no idea his father is watching.

"Looks like he's found a friend."

Taylor turns to see that Ayani has quietly come up behind him.

"So has she," he says.

"You might have to bring her over more often," Ayani says. Taylor nods.

Lucas breaks into laughter at something and waves her arms in an animated gesture that makes Wash grin. Ayani catches Taylor's hand and motions back toward the dining room table. Taylor quietly closes the door and together the two of them go back to join the others. As he sits back down at the table he finds himself wishing Lucas and Wash could just stay there forever, completely happy and completely oblivious to whatever future is about to be thrown at them.

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><p>PLEASE review! :) Let me know what you like, what you don't, and any ideas you have or things you'd like to see in future chapters.<p> 


	6. 2132 AD: Picture Perfect

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own it.

Author's Note: This one was written after ten o'clock at night, so it may be a little rough. But I think you guys will like it. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Picture Perfect<strong>

She's a day away from nineteen when she takes her first bullet.

The unit is out in the African jungle, pinned down in the middle of a vicious firefight between the rebels and the army. Both sides have taken solid ground. The army has the hill but the rebels have the thicker jungle. At this point it's all a question of whose ammunition runs out first.

Taylor and his team are hunkered down in a well-protected section of brush on the side of a steep hill trying not to get blown to pieces. Bullets and rockets are flying everywhere. They don't have enough ammo to blast their way out and it's too dangerous to just run. So for the moment they're returning fire as best they can and trying not to get themselves killed. They have hidden themselves in a large crevice. Thankfully the jungle around them is thick.

A good thirty minutes into it Wash, who has been crouched in the brush returning fire with Reese and Jenkins, lets out a yelp. She leans back, clutching at her right upper arm. Blood is trickling between her fingers.

"Wash is hit!" Reese yells over his shoulder.

"Get her back here!" Taylor calls. He claps Beckman on the shoulder, signaling him to take her place. Collins and Harrison are guarding the entrance to the crevice. Wash stumbles in and Taylor pushes her into a sitting position against the rock wall.

"I'm fine, sir," she says, her teeth gritted tightly.

"Sure you are," Taylor says. "Let me see it."

He pulls her hand away and takes a good look at her arm.

"It's not too bad," he says. "It didn't even break the bone. I need to get the bullet out though." Wash slings her bag off her shoulder and Taylor digs through it. It only takes him a moment in find a pair of tweezers.

"Now hold still, Private," he says. Wash keeps her eyes trained on the entrance to the crevice, her gun still in her hands. She winces as he digs around inside her arm but somehow she keeps herself from pulling the trigger. In fact she's remarkably steady through the whole thing.

Taylor digs the bloody bullet out and holds it up.

"You can keep it for a souvenir," he says. He sprays her arm with some fancy stuff to help it heal faster, and then grabs a strip of bandage and begins to wrap it. "Hell of a present, Wash. Somebody up there must have a sense of humor."

"Sir?" Wash says, confused.

"Well, you know, with tomorrow and all," Taylor says. Wash gives him a look that says she clearly has no idea what he's talking about. Thankfully Reese sticks his head into the crevice at that moment, saving Taylor from having to explain.

"Fire's letting up," Reese says. "Jenkins thinks we can make it out."

Taylor hands Wash her pack and helps her to her feet.

"Let's go."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

They make it to a nearby base before dark and spend the night there in real barracks. Surprisingly enough Taylor finds that a part of him misses the dirt floor of the jungle. He does not, however, miss having to get up in the middle of the night and take watch.

The next morning he gets up early and goes to the mess to put in a special request. By the time Wash shows up, still early by military standards, the rest of them are already there and eating. Collins pushes a cup of coffee down the table to her.

"You sleep good, Wash?" Taylor asks.

"Yes sir," she says.

"Good. How's your arm?"

"Fine, sir." She shows him her range of motion as proof.

"Sit down," Jenkins says. "We grabbed you a plate."

Wash sits and Reese hands her the plate of several small pancakes. That in itself is a bit odd, considering where they are. But ever stranger is that the pancakes have been very carefully shaped into letters, the topmost of which is an H. Wash gives them all a strange look before beginning to unstack the pancakes. She places them one by one on the table. At the end there are two words clearly spelled: _Happy Birthday_.

She stares at them for a moment and then looks up at her smiling teammates.

"How did you..."

"Your birthday was in your records," Taylor explains. "You were pretty young when you hit the streets and the Academy wouldn't have thought it was important, so I figured you didn't know. But now you do."

Wash looks back down at the pancakes and then up at the others.

"Thank-you," she says sincerely.

"Ah, I almost forgot," Jenkins says. He pulls a short candle out of his pocket and sets it on the plate. Beckman produces a lighter from somewhere and sets the wick aflame.

"Make a wish," Collins says, a grin on her face. Wash thinks a moment and then blows out the candle. The rest of the team claps.

"Eat up," Taylor says. "We got somewhere to be."

"Where, sir?" Wash asks, confused. They're supposed to have today off, a rest period after two months chasing fugitives around the jungle.

"You'll find out," Taylor says vaguely.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

It turns out he means the nearby lake. He's had someone get them together a bunch of fishing gear and a lunch, and together they all get in the rovers and go. It's one of the few places where the water is still clear enough to support fish. Wash just about passes out when she sees so much clean water all in one place. Beckman laughs and tells her to close her mouth before something flies in it.

They spend the whole day out there, fishing and swimming and splashing and laughing and just having a good time. As he hurries reel in a fish amidst the cheers of Jenkins and Beckman, Taylor finds himself thinking that this must be what paradise is like.

At some point in the afternoon Jenkins sets up a camera and they all gather together for a series of pictures. The first few are beautiful, all of them grinning with their arms draped around each other. Taylor is in the back with an arm around a smiling Wash. On his other side is Jenkins. Harrison is on the other side of Wash, his own arm also around her. Collins is kneeling in the middle and Beckman and Reese are crouched on either side of her. By the time they draw the session to a close, however, the pictures have turned into pure humor. The last one is the best. Beckman and Reese have together managed to pin Collins between them and are both kissing opposite sides of her face. Her expression is priceless and it's a wonder either of them made it out of that alive. Jenkins has struck a dramatic Superman pose while Harrison is in the air mid-leap with an expression on his face that just screams too much coffee. In the middle Taylor has got a struggling Wash in a headlock and is rubbing her head for all he's worth, a wide grin on his face.

They finally head back to the base as the sun begins to set. Taylor is driving one of the rovers and Wash happens to be sitting beside him.

"So how's it feel to be nineteen?" he asks her.

"Pretty damn good, sir," Wash says. There's a smile on her face.

"Well good," Taylor says, pleased with himself. They're both silent for a moment, drinking in the sight of the African landscape around them. As they turn around the last bend and the base comes into sight, Wash turns and looks over at him.

"Sir?" she says. "Thank-you."

Taylor smiles.

"Any time, Wash."

* * *

><p>You know the drill. :)<p> 


	7. 2132 AD: Story Time

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for several hyperactive plot bunnies. *grabs ears of plot bunny trying to escape* Oh no you don't!

Author's Note: Sorry this has taken me so long to update. I spent my Christmas break in Poland with my family (my parents are missionaries there), and the last few days I was saying good-bye, flying a cummulative twelve hours plus layovers, and recovering from jetlag at my roommate's house. (As of this moment I blame any and all silliness, nonsensicalness, and lack of clarity and/or coherency on jetlag.) I am now back at college and my classes start back on Monday, so it may be a few days before I get back into a regular pattern of updating. Thanks for your patience. =) And now, without further ado, here is another chapter. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Story Time<strong>

She's been with his team a little over a year when she finally tells him her story. The team has sent weeks preparing for a reconnaissance mission and tonight they pulled it off with no injuries. In fact, they managed to get in and out completely undetected. That of course puts everyone in a remarkably good mood.

They've traveled half the night to get out of enemy territory and have now found a cave to spend the night in. After hanging a blanket across the entrance Taylor allows them to light a small fire. Jenkins immediately sets to work on dinner. At this point anything he makes, even if it's burned, will be a welcome change from the tack and jerky and dried fruit they've been eating for the past two weeks. It was too dangerous to light a fire while they were behind enemy lines.

Taylor finds a rock outside the entrance to the cave and sits in silence. The perfect silence of the night is broken only by the quiet voices and laughter of his team inside the cave. The cave is higher than the rest of the jungle around it. The foliage around conceals Taylor and the cave from anyone below, but a convenient gap also gives him a clear view of the valley below. The stars overhead are beautiful as always.

After a time the blanket moves and Wash comes out, a small bowl in hand. She hands it silently to Taylor. He cautiously studies the strange gruel inside.

"Any idea what this is?" he asks, not entirely sure he wants to know. Wash shrugs.

"No idea, sir."

Taylor lifts the spoon to his mouth and takes a cautious taste. Surprisingly enough it tastes pretty good.

"Not bad," he says. Wash nods in agreement. Taylor eats another spoonful and then motions to the large rock he's sitting on. "Have a seat, Wash."

Wash sits down beside him, her eyes quickly scanning the area around them. He sees her eyes take in the wild jungle concealing them from anyone down below and her shoulders relax just a bit.

"Stars are nice and clear tonight," Taylor says. Wash nods. Taylor looks over at her with a curious look. "You know Wash, usually when I'm around someone for a year thing start coming out. Who their parents were, what their childhood was like, what their favorite color is. But not you. You keep a pretty tight lip."

"There isn't much to tell, sir," Wash says simply.

"I'd like to hear it anyway."

"Is that an order, sir?" Wash asks, stiffening.

"No," Taylor says. "Just a request. I'm not going to make you tell me something you don't want to. But I'd like to hear it if you're willing to."

They sit in silence for a long moment, Wash intensely studying the ground beneath her feet and Taylor quietly eating his... whatever it is. Finally Wash lets out a pained sigh.

"My father was in the army," she says. "Lieutenant James Washington."

"He was a good man," Taylor says. Wash's head jerks up.

"You knew him?" she asks. All of her walls have suddenly hit the floor and the admiration in her eyes for her father reminds him once again of how young she is.

"He saved my life," Taylor says. "He was a good soldier. He'd be proud of you." Wash looks away, but not before he sees how much the words mean to her.

"He died when I was five," she says quietly. She pulls out the dog tags hanging beneath her shirt and pushes a button. A holo picture appears of a smiling couple. On the left is Lieutenant James Washington in his military clothing and on the right is a beautiful young woman, presumably his wife. Between them they are holding up a young girl who Taylor recognizes as a young Wash. On her face is a smile that could light up the room. He's never seen that smile on her face.

"That was right before he left," Wash says. "It's the only one I have of them." There's a warmth in her eyes that Taylor rarely sees. The picture vanishes and she swallows hard. "We found out he was gone right after Christmas. Mom got sick not long after. She didn't make it very long. I was six when she died."

"That's when you ended up on the street," Taylor says. Wash nods, her face tight.

"I fell in with a gang for a while," she says. "They made me beg because I was the youngest. I left them when I was nine and went out on my own. I stole to stay alive. Alcohol was easier to get than food. I could tell who was going to get stoned before they got home, so I followed them until they did and then stole what was left."

"That's no way to live," Taylor says.

"Living and surviving are two different things," Wash says. She looks up and Taylor is amazed at the wisdom in her young face. She's seen so much. Too much. And it's changed her forever.

"Very true," he says.

"When I was eleven I got arrested," Wash continues. "The recruiters saw me before the cops could drag me off. I spent seven years in the Academy and then you found me."

It's an interesting choice of words, he thinks. Found. Almost as if he saved her somehow.

"I saw you once," she says, studying his face. "The day I got arrested. You and Jenkins were on the street together."

"So you remember," Taylor says. Wash nods. "That was the day Lucas was born."

"He's a smart kid, sir," Wash says honestly. Taylor takes her return to her usual polite manner as a sign that the emotional moment is over.

"He's a genius," he says. And he isn't just exaggerating in the way most parents do. According to his teachers and several IQ tests, Lucas really is a genius. "He's going to do something big some day."

Wash nods in agreement. Then they both just sit, enjoying the peace and quiet of the night around them. The voices inside the cave have mostly fallen silent. The small crack beneath the blanket shows that the fire inside is getting low. Wash looks up at the stars one last time and then she stands and brushes off her pants.

"If you don't mind, sir, I think I'll turn in," she says. Taylor nods. Wash holds out her hand and Taylor hands her his bowl.

"Sleep well, Wash," he says.

Wash steps over to the entrance to the cave and then stops.

"You mentioned favorite colors, sir," she says, turning back. Taylor looks over his shoulder at her. She pauses a moment, and then says, "Mine's green."

With that she turns and steps behind the blanket into the cave. Taylor stares after her. Then he shakes his head. She's full of surprises, that kid.

He turns back to the jungle and settles in, getting comfortable. He still has three hours to go before Beckman takes over watch.

* * *

><p>You guys know what to do. =)<p> 


	8. 2133 AD: Found

Disclaimer: Don't own it. End of story.

Author's Note: I really like the idea of Wash becoming a part of Taylor's family, so this chapter is how she ends up heading in that direction. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Found<strong>

She's almost twenty when Taylor finally confirms his suspicions that she spends all of her meager vacation time alone, wandering the city, sleeping on the street, and drinking (and fighting) in bars. It's at the beginning of a very cold February and the team is once more back on leave. Ayani and Lucas had held Christmas for almost an entire month so the three of them could celebrate together when Taylor got back. He's been home about thirteen days when he gets a message from Collins saying she and Beckman, who are beginning to spend more and more time together, have just seen Wash sitting alone in a bar for the third time that week. The first two times they said something to her, but this time they thought it might be better to let him do it. After a quick explanation to Ayani, Taylor grabs his coat and rebreather (it's almost impossible to breathe outside now without one of the damned things on) and goes to find her.

The bar isn't far away, and fifteen minutes later he's stepping inside. It takes him a minute to find Wash. She's sitting alone at a small corner table idly spinning a coin across the tabletop and watching it fall before repeating the process. A half-empty beer is sitting in front of her and her pack is on the ground by her feet. Her hair is down now, slightly longer than it was the day he hired her. Taylor's never seen her look so small and lonely.

He gets himself a beer and then walks over to her small table.

"Hey Wash," he says warmly, sliding into the seat across from her. Wash jumps and her eyes widen.

"Sir," she says quickly.

"At ease, Private," Taylor says, smiling. Wash relaxes a bit, but she's sitting up straight now, her eyes sharp. Taylor looks around the bar and shakes his head. "Sure is good to be back. Sleeping in real beds and eating something besides tack and jerky."

"If you say so, sir," Wash says evenly. Taylor turns back to her.

"You know, I just got a message from Collins," he says. "She and Beckman are kinda worried about you." Wash doesn't say anything. That in itself is all the confirmation he needs.

He leans forward, resting his arms on the table.

"You got any friends around here, Wash?" he asks.

"None I care to see, sir," she says bluntly.

"And I'm guessing no extended family."

"No sir."

"Fair enough," Taylor says, sitting back. He shakes his head. "It's mighty cold outside. I'd hate to have to be sleeping out there." Wash looks down at her beer.

"Well, I need to be going," Taylor says, getting to his feet. "Ayani's probably got dinner ready." He stops and looks down at Wash, pretending an idea has just occurred to him instead of having been in his head since the moment he left his apartment. "You know, she was saying the other day she'd like to see you again. So was Lucas. He asks about you all the time. Why don't you come along? We can surprise them." Wash opens her mouth and Taylor quickly continues, making sure to give her a way out. She needs her pride. "Unless of course you're busy. We can always do it another time."

"I wouldn't want to intrude, sir," Wash says. It sounds pathetic to both of them.

"Nonsense," Taylor says. "Ayani always makes too much food anyway. And we've got a spare bed you can use too. She won't let you leave the house alone after dark." Wash hesitates, so Taylor tries to look stern. "Don't make me make it an order, Private."

Wash looks up, her eyes full of gratitude.

"Thank-you, sir," she says softly. Taylor picks up her pack and slings it over his shoulder.

"Anytime, Wash," he says. "Come on. Let's go before the food gets cold."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The walk back to the apartment is a short one. It's more than long enough, however, for Taylor to notice that Wash's rebreather is a secondhand one that barely works. She's probably jury-rigged it just to keep it going. He'll have to fix that. There's also the fact that it seems everything she owns can fit inside her standard-issue military pack. He'll have to fix that too. His unit makes decent money, but it's not enough to rationalize buying an apartment that would only be lived in for two or three months a year. That explains why Wash is sleeping on the street. One more thing he'll have to fix.

By the time they reach the apartment he's got it all planned out. He'll have to talk to Ayani, but he's sure she won't mind turning the small guest bedroom into a permanent room for Wash. They can even charge her rent if it makes her feel better, although it would be ridiculously low. But no medic of his is going to be sleeping on the street. Especially not now that it's so cold outside and the air is getting worse by the day.

"Hey Ayani!" Taylor calls, opening the door. "Look who I found!"

Ayani leans around the corner of the kitchen and a wide grin crosses her face.

"Alicia!" She sets down whatever it is that she's holding and then she comes to the door and hugs Wash tightly. "It's so good to see you again."

"We thought we'd surprised you," Taylor says, winking at his wife.

"Wash!"

Eight-year-old Lucas Taylor comes running out of his room and crashes into Wash, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. Wash hugs him back a bit awkwardly.

"You'll never guess what I got for Christmas!" Lucas says excitedly as he pulls away. He grabs Wash's hand and gives it a tug. "It's so cool! Come on, you gotta see!"

He hurries down the hall to his room, pulling Wash behind him. If Taylor didn't know better he might think she was grinning.

"Lucas, dinner is in ten minutes!" Ayani calls after him, a smile on her face.

"Okay!" Lucas yells. They can hear him getting out his new toy robot and excitedly showing Wash all of the things he has single-handedly programmed it to do.

"So?" Ayani asks as she and Taylor walk into the kitchen together.

"Looks like Collins was right," Taylor says as he sits down at the table. "Best I can figure out she's sleeping on the street. Who knows what she does all day."

"We should fix that," Ayani says. Taylor nods.

"I was thinking maybe we could give her the spare bedroom," he says. "Give her somewhere to go when she's on leave."

"Do you think she'd take it?" Ayani asks, beginning to set the food on the table.

"I think I could get her to."

The sound of Lucas and Wash laughing suddenly explodes from the bedroom down the hall. Taylor and Ayani smile at each other.

"It might be good for both of them," Ayani says. Lucas' intellect is already beginning to separate him from the other children his age, and his number of friends is slowly but steadily decreasing. "If you can get her to accept it, then the room is hers."

Taylor stands up and snaps her a smart salute.

"Yes, ma'am," he says in a mock military voice. Ayani smiles.

"Now make yourself useful, soldier," she says, handing him a stack of plates. Taylor grins and begins to place them on the table.

Helping his wife put out the rest of dinner, Taylor suddenly finds Wash's words from several months ago echoing in his head._ "...you found me."_ It hadn't made sense to him at the time, but now it's starting to. Maybe it wasn't just luck or chance. Maybe he didn't just hire her. Maybe he really did find her. Maybe he was always meant to. He doesn't really know how or why, but as Wash comes to the table with a smile on her face and an excited Lucas still jabbering away beside her, Taylor knows that he's glad he did.

* * *

><p>Feed the bard. Please and thank-you. :)<p> 


	9. 2133 AD: Kings and Queens

Disclaimer: Sadly I own none of this. Just Wash's chess skills.

Author's Note: I apologize again for the long time between updates. I'm back in college now, so it's going to take a bit longer to write. But now the craziness of the first week is over, so hopefully it won't be a week before the next update. Anyway. This is one of my favorite pieces between Wash and Taylor because it's more light-hearted than the last few. Oh, and the title is also the name of a song by 30 Seconds to Mars, which you should definitely check out. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Kings and Queens<strong>

She's been living in his house two weeks when he learns she's never played chess.

"Are you serious?" he asks in disbelief.

"Completely, sir," Wash says, obviously failing to see the point.

"Well we're gonna have to fix that," Taylor says. He's already halfway to the cabinet where the chess board waits. "Sit down, Wash."

"Sir-" Wash begins. Taylor has an appointment with one of his superiors in an hour, and he had decided to take Wash along with him.

"Sit," Taylor says sternly. Wash sits. Taylor brings the chess board over to the table and sets it down.

"Sir, you have a meeting-" Wash tries again.

"It's just Philbrick," Taylor says, waving his hand dismissively. "He'll agree that this is much more important. Every good soldier should know how to play chess."

He begins to quickly line up the white pieces on his side of the board. Wash studies him a moment and then begins to do the same with the black ones, carefully mirroring his placement of the different pieces.

"Most people anymore have those fancy holo boards," Taylor says, picking up the white king. "Me, I like being able to touch the pieces."

He sets the white king down on the board and Wash does the same with the black one. Then she looks up at him, silently waiting for instructions. She really is a soldier at heart.

"Okay," Taylor says. "Chess is a game of strategy. Think of the pieces as soldiers. Where each soldier has a particular skill set, each piece is only allowed to move in a particular way." He quickly runs through the list for her. Kings can move one space in any direction, rooks can move as far as the player wants in a vertical or horizontal direction, bishops can only move diagonally, etc. Wash listens intently to his directions. When he finishes she repeats them all back flawlessly. She always has been a fast learner. Not for the first time Taylor wonders if this kid is being wasted as a field medic.

"You ready to have a go?" he asks. Wash looks down at the board and nods.

"I think so, sir."

He goes easy on her the first game to give her time to learn the ropes. He still gives her a sound beating, of course. Can't make it too easy. By the second game she's already got the hang of it. The third game is when things start to get interesting, and when they reach the fourth she's giving him a good run for his money.

It's in the middle of this fourth game that Taylor receives a call.

"Hello?" he says, setting the receiver on the table beside the board.

"Colonel Taylor," Philbrick's voice booms. "Do you realize that we had an appointment three hours ago?"

"I do, sir," Taylor says. He picks up his bishop and moves it across the board, effectively cutting off Wash's planned attack. He flashes her a triumphant grin in response to her annoyed glare.

"And do you have a reason for missing that appointment?" Philbrick asks sternly.

"I learned that Private Washington had never played chess," Taylor says. Wash hesitates before carefully moves her rook. Taylor studies the placement of her piece and gives her a nod. It was a good move.

"Is that so?" Philbrick asks, his tone suddenly much friendlier. He and Taylor are old friends, making him probably the only superior officer Taylor could stand up without any consequences. He's also probably the only one to see chess as a valid excuse for missing a meeting. "I trust you fixed that?"

"I did, sir." Taylor moves his pawn, nearly on the backline, into the path of Wash's queen. Maybe she'll fall for it...

"And?"

Wash doesn't fall for it. She moves her knight around, effectively trapping him. Even if she does take his pawn now he can't move to intercept because it would leave his king open. Taylor whistles appreciatively.

"She's pretty damn good," he says. Wash grins, clearly proud of herself.

"I would expect nothing less," Philbrick says. Taylor moves his queen dangerously close to her king and Wash bites her lip. He flashes her a grin that says, _Didn't see that coming, did you?_

"Well I'll let it slide this time," Philbrick says. "But I expect to see you in my office tomorrow at 1300 sharp."

"Yes sir," Taylor says.

"Alright." There is a short pause and then Philbrick adds with a smile in his voice, "Oh, and Nathaniel? Don't let her beat you." Taylor grins as Wash shifts the position of her king.

"I don't plan on it," he says, moving his knight. Just one more move and the game will be his. And Wash doesn't even see it coming.

"Good man," Philbrick chuckles. "Don't be late tomorrow."

"Yes sir."

There comes a click as the call ends.

"Now then," Taylor says, studying the board intently. "Where were we?"

Wash reaches out and picks up her bishop, carrying it across the board and setting it down on the other side. It takes Taylor less than a second to see what she's done. He chuckles and shakes his head. Wash looks up, a triumphant grin on her face. She crosses her arms over her chest and proudly leans back in her chest.

"Check."

* * *

><p>Push the blue button, please. :)<p> 


	10. 2133 AD: Worth Dying For Part 1

Dicslaimer: I still own nothing.

Author's Note: This piece is a little shorter because it's split up into two parts. It just would have been too long otherwise. Part two will be up either this evening or tomorrow. The title is the name of a one-shot I wrote about Wash's thoughts during her final moments. In that fic I made a reference to the two parts of this chapter. If you haven't already you should definitely check it out. Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Worth Dying For (Part 1)<strong>

She's halfway through twenty when he almost dies.

The team is traveling through the jungle towards a rendezvous point when they get ambushed by rebels. Suddenly bullets are everywhere and they're running as hard as they can. Guerilla warfare is like that in the jungle. Things can change at the drop of a hat. Faster, even.

The rebels are everywhere and it's a miracle they haven't all been shot to pieces. Taylor knows they have the jungle to thank for that. Collins screams as a bullet tears through her arm. An explosion knocks Harrison off his feet and Jenkins hauls him up by his collar as he runs past. Beckman, Reese, and Taylor are returning fire as best they can, but stopping even just long enough to fire a shot backwards is a dangerous thing. A still target is a dead target.

Suddenly the passable jungle bottlenecks up ahead. Jungle-trained guerillas aren't stopped by much, but this looks like it just might slow them down. The army line isn't much further. If they can just reach it, they might stand a chance. They just need more time.

Taylor grinds to a halt in front of the bottleneck and drops into the brush, facing their pursuers. Jenkins has taken up the rear and he slows as he runs past Taylor.

"Get them out of here!" Taylor calls over the gunfire. A look of understanding passes between the two friends. It's a suicide mission and they both know it. But someone has to do it, and Jenkins knows him well enough to know that once Nathaniel Taylor's mind is made up you might as well be arguing with a wall.

A bullet whizzes past Jenkins and he runs into the jungle after the others.

"Sir?" Wash yells, stumbling to a halt.

"Keep going!" Jenkins orders.

"The Colonel-"

"Just go!" Jenkins yells, grabbing her shoulder and shoving her after the others.

Taylor kicks his gun over to auto and holds down the trigger, sweeping it back and forth across the jungle. Bullets are flying all around him. Thankfully the brush makes it harder for them to see him. One of the bullets hits his leg and another his shoulder, but he grits his teeth hard. He refuses to make any sound that could give away his position. Although the likelihood of that happening amidst the storm of gunfire is almost nil.

He can practically feel the rebels closing in. His time is almost up. The gun clicks suddenly, out of ammo. It only takes him a second to snap in the fresh clip. It's his last one. Once that's out it'll all be over. Taylor leaps out of the brush, ready to make his final stand.

Just in time to see a grenade hit the dirt in front of him.

The whole world seems to explode. He flies backward into the brush and smashes into a tree, every molecule of air knocked from his body. Everything is spinning. He can't move, can barely breathe. His whole body is screaming in searing agony.

There comes a brilliant flash of light and suddenly he can't see or hear. It's too much. Too much feeling, too much pain. He can vaguely sense that someone is bending over him. He thinks it might be Wash, but he can't see enough to tell. They're saying something, he knows they are, but he can't hear. There's too much thunder in his ears. Then his senses go into overload and he blacks out.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

When he comes to again he's staring up at tree tops moving past. Someone must be carrying him, but he can't feel it. He can't feel anything, for that matter. The sunlight is still too bright. He can barely see. Someone is beside him, moving fast. His eyes focus just enough to tell that it's Wash. She's saying something. The thunder in his ears has subsided to a dull roar, but it still takes all of his power to strain his ears enough to make out the words.

"We're almost there! Just hold on!"

She looks down at him and he would've blinked in shock if he had the energy. Taylor has seen a lot of emotions cross that face in the last two years: sadness, anger, joy, pain, amusement. But never fear. Not until now. Wash is scared.

"Wash," he croaks. His voice is weak and he barely recognizes it. It's hard to talk. He can barely force his burning lips to form even one word, let alone find the air for it. "Others."

"They're safe," Wash says, knowing what he means. "We're all safe."

His ears are beginning to clear a bit. He can hear people yelling and running and there's a storm of gunfire some distance behind them. An unfamiliar face moves past attached to a body dressed in camo and Taylor realizes that the army must have found them. They're safe. His men are safe. They did it.

He can feel the blackness coming back and he welcomes it. His men are safe. That's all that matters.

Wash is shouting at him, but it's as if from far away.

"No, no, no! Stay with me! You have to stay with me!"

He's never heard her sound so scared. He tries to tell her that it's okay, that they're safe now and everything will be okay. But the blackness rushes in and swallows him up before he gets the chance.

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><p>Leave a review and let me know what you think. :) And keep your eyes peeled for part 2!<p> 


	11. 2133 AD: Worth Dying For Part 2

Disclaimer: Yet again, I own nothing.

Author's Note: Here is part two of the last chapter. I suppose I could have combined them, but it just felt more appropriate to split them where I did. I do apologize for the cliffhanger. Hopefully this will make up for it. It isn't near as exciting as the last piece and I'm not entirely happy with it, but here it is anyway. Enjoy! :)

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><p><strong>Worth Dying For (Part 2)<strong>

He opens his eyes to white. Everything is white. For a moment he thinks he might be dead. Then his eyes slowly start to focus and he realizes he's staring at an off-white wall. His ears start to work and slowly he begins to make out the sound of something beeping. A heart monitor, it sounds like. That means a hospital. He's in a hospital. If he remembers correctly, the maps showed one about a day away from where the rendezvous point. This must be it.

Something moves and he turns his head to see a doctor checking a holo screen that has projected itself above the side of his bed.

"Welcome back, Colonel," the doctor says.

"How long have I been out?" Taylor asks. He pushes himself against the pillow so he's in something similar to a sitting position. For a moment the room spins, but then it settles back.

"A week," the doctor says. "We had to put you into a coma to give your body time to heal."

"So it's... September 19th, 2133," Taylor says, knowing what the man's first question will be.

"Correct," the doctor says. "I'm assuming you remember your own name?"

"Nathaniel Taylor," he says. They always have to ask. One of the few things these fancy medical beds can't do is give a complete assessment of memory damage. "What happened?"

"You got hit in a grenade blast," the doctor says, checking all the different vital signs. Taylor nods. He remembers that bit. "They had to medevac you out. You took a lot of damage. For a while we weren't even sure you were going to make it. Your medic actually saved your life. She saved your leg too. It took her sixty-seven stitches just to hold it together enough that there was still something left to save when you got here. There will be some scarring, but with a bit of rehab you should be back on duty in a couple months."

"And the rest of my team?"

"They're doing fine. They were a little bruised when they got here, but everyone's fine now."

The door opens and a head appears around it. Jenkins.

"So you finally decided to wake up," he says warmly, stepping into the room. As he comes up to the bed Taylor realizes there's a bandage across his nose. That's odd.

"I'll leave you two alone," the doctor says. He turns and steps outside, closing the door behind him.

"What happened to your nose?" Taylor asks once the man is gone.

"I got attacked by a crazy medic," Jenkins says dryly.

"Excuse me?"

"Wash wasn't too happy about leaving you behind," Jenkins says. "I kept her moving until that grenade went off. Soon as she heard the explosion she turned around and decked me. Broke my nose." He reaches up and touches the bandage gingerly. Taylor can't help laughing. "By the time Reese and I got to you she had set off a flash bomb. The rebels were all on the ground howling and Wash was dragging you back through the jungle. You were pretty torn up. I thought you were a goner for sure." He shakes his head. "We called for a copter, but they had a hard time finding a place to land. Somehow Wash kept you alive. She kept shooting you with adrenaline. She was shouting at anybody who would listen, telling them where to put pressure and to clear space so she could get some stitches in you. You're damn lucky to even be alive."

"I guess I owe her one," Taylor says. Jenkins nods.

"The doctors want to keep you here another week just to be sure you're healing right," he says, crossing his arms casually. "They'll fly you home after that. You'll have to go to therapy for a while though."

"Great," Taylor says sarcastically. Jenkins grins. Then his face gets more serious.

"Wash is waiting outside. She's barely left the hospital since we got here. I already gave her the chain of command lecture, so I guess you get to be the good cop." He pauses for a minute before adding, "You mean a lot to that kid."

"We all do," Taylor says. Jenkins nods thoughtfully.

"You know, it's funny. For all the emphasis we put on following orders, sometimes the best soldiers are the ones who know when to ignore them."

Taylor nods. For a moment they are both silent, lost in thought.

"Well, I better go call your wife and tell her you're awake," Jenkins says finally, clapping Taylor on the shoulder. "I'll have one of the nurses send the call up. You hurry up and get better."

"Will do," Taylor says with a grin.

Jenkins walks over to the door and steps out. There is a long moment of silence, and then the door opens again. Wash steps in without a word, closing the door behind her.

"I hear you saved my life," Taylor says warmly. Wash nods.

"I guess I did, sir," she says stiffly. She doesn't look very happy. In fact she looks highly irritated.

"If you got something to say, you might as well say it," Taylor says.

"What the _hell_ were you thinking?" Wash blurts out angrily. Taylor blinks. That wasn't quite what he had been expecting.

"I was thinking that my men would never make it to the army line unless someone bought them more time," he says calmly.

"You could have been killed!" She's almost yelling, her face hard with anger.

"That's a price I was willing to pay."

Wash shuts her mouth tightly, afraid of saying too much but still angry with his decision. Taylor doesn't quite know what to say. He knows she's not really angry with him. She's scared because he almost died.

"Let me explain something to you," he says finally. "Any fool can fight for a thing, Wash. It's the man who dies for something that truly believes in it. I believe in the things we're fighting for. Freedom and justice, etcetera." He moves his arm to demonstrate that the list goes on. "But I also believe in the people in this unit. Jenkins and Beckman and Collins and Reese and Harrison. And I believe in you, Alicia Washington. And if I have to die to protect you, then I'm okay with that."

Wash's eyes soften as he speaks, and by the end the anger is gone. In its place is a quiet understanding and a vulnerability caused by the fear of losing something treasured.

"Although," Taylor continues, a smile on his face as he tries to lighten the mood, "I got a feeling you won't be letting me die anytime soon."

"Not on my watch, sir," Wash says sincerely, a hint of a smile on her face. She's calling him 'sir' again. Emotional crisis officially averted.

"Good." He gives an affirmative nod and then moves on. Time to play bad cop for a minute. "Speaking of dying. You saved my life out there, Wash. And I'm grateful. But you also disobeyed an order, and that's something I cannot afford to tolerate." He locks eyes with Wash, making sure he understands how deadly serious he is. "Next time you get an order, you obey it. Understood?"

"No promises, sir," Wash says seriously.

He knows he should get on to her, should drill into her brain the importance of following orders in a combat situation. An overly uptight officer might even have her court marshaled. But he also knows that Jenkins has probably already slammed that point home several times over in the week he's been unconscious. Besides, he wouldn't be here right now if she hadn't done what she did. She trusted her gut, and that's something he has to respect.

"Fair enough," he says.

Wash takes that as her cue to leave. She turns and heads for the door. When she gets there Taylor's voice stops her.

"Wash," he calls. She turns around. With a perfectly straight face he asks, "Did you really deck Jenkins?"

Wash keeps her face carefully neutral, obviously unsure of what he thinks about it.

"I did, sir," she says honestly.

Taylor tries to keep a straight face, intending to give her a mock lecture about military discipline, but the mental image of her smashing his sergeant's nose is just too much and instead he starts laughing.

"Get out of here," he says, laughter in his voice. Wash grins and exits the room. Taylor shakes his head and leans back against his pillows. He lets out a contented sigh. Yes, he may be in a hospital. But his team is safe, he's still alive, and Wash has a smile on her face.

All is right with the world.

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><p>I beseech thee, dear reader, to kindly leave a review. :) It will make my day.<p> 


	12. 2133 AD: Home for Christmas

Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the stuffed tiger. Except mine is more of a snow tiger...

Author's Note: I apologize once again for the atrociously long time it took me to write this chapter. Time has been flying by. That and the fact that this chapter really did not want to turn out right, so I had to rewrite it three times before I was satisfied. Since the last piece was more action, this is mostly just fluff. But I really like how it turned out. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Home for Christmas<strong>

She's spending her first Christmas in his home when he realizes just how much a part of his family she has become.

His recovery has gone well and he's been cleared for duty again. They leave in a week, which is the reason they're celebrating Christmas ten days early. The unit got called out while Taylor was in rehab and they ended up spending two and a half months in the field chasing a terrorist. Taylor was a bit worried that Wash and Jenkins would have some problems, but once he was out of the picture she followed his second's orders to the letter. Unless of course she thought he was wrong. Thankfully the two of them have developed a healthy respect for each other, which seems to outweigh the fact that they don't always see eye-to-eye.

As with every year, Christmas begins with a big family breakfast. He and Ayani get up early and she makes scrambled eggs and bacon while he flips pancakes. Lucas goes and jumps on Wash's bed as soon as he wakes up, and by the time he drags her into the kitchen rubbing sleep from her eyes the entire apartment smells like breakfast. Laughter echoes through the apartment as they all sit down and eat together.

Once they can no longer eat any more they all go to sit around the Christmas tree. Setting it up with Wash around had been a memory-maker in and of itself. She's sitting on the floor now in sweat pants and a hoodie looking more relaxed than Taylor has ever seen her. Lucas is sorting through the presents in that animated way of his. He can hardly wait to dig in.

They take turns opening presents just like always. Lucas loves his new chemistry set, but it is the book of math formulas and theories from Wash that truly steals his heart. The medic has also gotten Ayani a small necklace with a beautiful cross, and she turns red at the warm thanks she receives in return. Then she uncovers the black leather jacket Taylor bought her and she positively lights up.

The last gift to be opened is from Lucas to Wash. He's obviously very excited about it as he's barely able to sit still.

"Open it! Open it!" he cries, a huge grin plastered across his face. Wash grins back as she catches his excitement. She pulls back the pristine wrapping paper-

-and just stares.

"What is it?" Ayani prods gently.

Wash pushes back the rest of the paper and pulls out a stuffed tiger.

"Do you like it?" Lucas asks, suddenly nervous. Slowly a smile crosses Wash's face.

"He's perfect," she says. She hugs the tiger tightly and then looks up at Lucas. "Get over here."

Lucas grins and drops to the floor beside her. Wash immediately grabs him in a big hug.

"Thanks," she says, rubbing his head. Lucas grins.

"I knew you'd like it," he says.

"I love it," Wash corrects. She looks around the room, taking it all in. "All of it."

She looks over at Taylor and Ayani sitting on the couch, her eyes full of emotion.

"Thank-you," she says softly. Ayani smiles warmly at her.

"You're welcome."

"Can was play Scrabble now?" Lucas asks, breaking the moment. Taylor groans.

"I've played enough Scrabble in the last three months to last a lifetime," he says, clutching his side in mock agony.

"Well then I guess that lifetime is about to get a little longer," Ayani says with a smile.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Ayani wins, of course, seeing as one half of her double major was in English. The other was in art. Lucas' knowledge of scientific words allows him to give her a fair run for her money, but the fact that he's only nine years old allows her to gain the upper hand.

They have a chess championship after that, which Taylor only just barely wins. Then they take family pictures like they do every year. Ayani insists on Wash being in them, and even loans her a green sweater to wear. Although initially not sure how to respond, once the camera starts clicking the young medic's smile is brighter than the Christmas tree. They take several pictures of the four of them, some serious and some not. Then Wash captures a few of Taylor and Ayani. His favorite is of the two of them kissing in front of the Christmas tree. Lucas insists on having a few taken of him and Wash. When they finally run out of pictures to take they all sit down and eat a wonderful lunch. As usual Ayani has made far too much, every bit of it delicious. They will be feasting on the delicious leftovers for days to come.

The afternoon is wasted on all kinds of Christmas movies. Dinner is a hodgepodge of leftovers that they gradually get into one by one. Eventually night comes and eyelids start to get heavy. Lucas is the first to go to bed. Taylor has to carry him to his room because he's already half asleep. Ayani follows not long after. She gives Taylor and Wash both a kiss, his on the cheek and hers on the forehead, and tells them not to stay up too late. Then the bedroom door closes behind her, leaving Taylor and Wash alone on the couch, quietly watching the colored lights on the Christmas tree. Wash has changed back into her sweatshirt and sweatpants, her arms wrapped around the tiger Lucas gave her.

"So," Taylor says, breaking the silence. "A tiger?"

"I used to have one like this when I was little," Wash explains. "My dad gave it to me after I was born. I used to carry it everywhere. But I lost it when I was eight. I mentioned it to Lucas once. I never thought he'd find one like it."

She falls silent for a moment, taking in the sight of the fake tree with its beautiful lights and the array of ornaments that could tell the entire story of the Taylor family if you had the time to sit and look at them all.

"I can't even remember my last real Christmas," she admits quietly. "When I was five it was just me and my mom. My dad was supposed to be back soon, so we didn't really go all out." She swallows painfully. "Three days later a corporal showed up on our doorstep saying my dad was dead."

"That must've been hard," Taylor says.

"I remember the next year, about Christmas time," Wash says, still looking at the tree instead of Taylor, "I was in the metro trying to stay out of the cold and there was a man dressed like Santa. He had probably just gotten off shift at a store. I went up to him and tugged on his sleeve. He didn't yell or hit me or tell me to go away. He just... he knelt down in front of me and asked what I wanted for Christmas."

"What'd you ask him for?" Taylor asks, curious. Wash is silent a moment. When she speaks again her voice is full of emotion.

"A family," she says softly. "He, uh... He said he'd see what he could do. Then he gave me a piece of candy and got on the metro. I never saw him again."

"And did he come through?" Taylor asks gently. He knows where this is going now, know what she's trying to tell him. She looks up at him, her eyes wet.

"I think he did," she says. "It took him a little longer than I expected. But he did."

Taylor gives Wash a warm smile and she smiles back. He reaches out and wraps an arm around her, gently pulling her over so her head rests against his shoulder. The lights on the Christmas tree are blurring a little and he has to blink to straighten them out.

"Merry Christmas, Wash," he says. Beside him the medic lets out a contented sigh.

"Merry Christmas, sir."

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><p>You know the drill, folks. :) The more reviews I get the more likely I'll be to feel guilty enough to try and write another chapter sooner.<p> 


	13. 2134 AD: The Best Defense

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except maybe Lucas Taylor's fighting skills. *double checks* Nope. Never mind.

Author's Note: Sorry again for the long gaps between updates. Time flies in college. This chapter is pretty light, and the next one probably will be too. The reason is that I am coming up on a storyline that will span multiple chapters that will be fairly harsh on our favorite medic. But until then, here's another chapter with Wash and little Lucas. The title comes from the saying, "The best defense is a good offense." Enjoy!

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><p><strong>The Best Defense<strong>

She's twenty-one when she starts teaching Lucas how to fight.

They've been gone on another six month tour, and throughout it Ayani's letters have indicated that school is steadily getting worse for Lucas. At ten years old he's already taking classes that are almost on a high school level. That in itself would make him a bit of a target, but the fact that he easily outperforms most of the children in that age group only makes it worse. Over the course of the school year he has become the target of bullying that is gradually getting worse. His one remaining friend, a small glasses-wearing boy named Remmy, could barely protect a fly, and so half the trouble Lucas gets in comes from trying to protect him. The bullying is gradually taking a toll and Lucas is becoming more sullen and withdrawn.

The unit has been back for a week when Lucas comes home from school with a bloody nose. Wash and Taylor are sitting on the couch together when he comes in.

"What happened?" Taylor asks, worried.

"What does it look like?" Lucas says angrily. He storms into his room, throwing his bag on the floor. Taylor and Wash exchange a look.

"Lucas?" Taylor calls. "Come in here."

There is silence for a moment, and then Lucas comes out of his room. A closer inspection reveals that he also has a nasty bruise on his cheek.

"Did those older boys do this to you?" Taylor asks. Lucas nods stiffly.

"Did you hit 'em back?" Wash asks.

"How can I?" Lucas says angrily. "They're bigger than I am."

"So use that against them," Wash says. Lucas tilts his head a bit, intrigued.

"How?"

"Come here." Wash gets up off the coach and stands in the middle of the floor. Lucas walks over to her. "You're smaller. That gives you a size advantage. You can use that to trip them. Like this." She shows him how to place his feet and twist his body around. Lucas carefully mimics her movements.

"Like that?" he asks. Wash nods.

"Now," she says. "I'm going to grab you, and I want you to move just like I showed you." Lucas nods.

From the couch Taylor watches in fascination. He's taught his son to throw a few punches, but until this year there was never a need for him to know more. Know his watches as Wash reaches out and tries to grab hold of Lucas. The smaller boy twists around exactly as she showed him, and suddenly Wash is on the ground. She rolls over onto her back and grins up at Lucas from the floor. He slowly grins back. Taylor starts to clap.

"Did you see that?" Lucas asks Taylor excitedly. Taylor nods.

"You did good," he says. Wash climbs to her feet and Lucas grins at her.

"Well done," she says.

"Can you show me another one?" Lucas asks. Wash nods.

"Alright. Put your feet like this... Exactly. Okay, now when I grab you I want you to twist your arm like this..."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Four days later Lucas comes home having obviously been in yet another fight. This time, however, he's smiling.

It turns out that a group of older boys were tormenting Remmy and Lucas tried to stand up for him. As usual the taunting then turned in his direction. This time, however, he wasn't the only one to walk away with bruises. It wasn't necessarily a victory, but it was definitely a huge step up. Ayani puts ice on his face and gives him a stern lecture about fighting, but nothing she can say will dampen his pride.

After dinner Taylor finds Ayani standing by Lucas' door, which is cracked open just the tiniest bit. He can hear the voices of his son and medic coming from inside.

"What are they up to?" he asks quietly.

"He's giving a play-by-play," Ayani whispers. Taylor looks over her shoulder to see Wash and Lucas both sitting on his bed. Lucas is reenacting the fight, showing Wash each and every move. She in turn is giving him an analysis of how well he executed the move or what else might have worked better. His reenactment is a lively one, and both he and Wash are smiling.

"He's so much happier when she's around," Ayani says softly. She looks up at Taylor. "I don't know what he would do without her."

"They're good for each other," Taylor says. "The girl I hired never even smiled."

"We should leave them alone," Ayani says, quietly pulling the door closed.

"And what do you suggest we do with ourselves?" Taylor asks.

"Oh, I'm sure we can think of something," Ayani says, pulling him down for a kiss.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

A week later word gets around that several of the boys who have been tormenting Lucas came home with bruises and looking absolutely terrified of something. When Lucas walked by one of them at school the boy turned pale and ran away. Lucas himself is puzzled by the strange turn of events. Taylor, however, has his own suspicions. But when he looks over at Wash she just shrugs innocently.

"Alright," Taylor says once Lucas has gone to his room. "Did you have something to do with that?"

"Me, sir?" Wash asks innocently. But the twinkle in her eyes give her away.

"What did you do to them?" Taylor asks, curious. "It sounds like they're traumatized." Wash grins a little.

"Let's just say that I don't think Lucas will be having any more trouble with them," she says, a smug smile on her face. Taylor grins at her. "There shouldn't be any permanent damage. Except maybe a slightly irrational fear of dark-haired women in army uniforms." Taylor laughs.

"Good work, Private," he says. Wash grins.

"Thank-you, sir."

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><p>Imaginary cookies for those who review.<p> 


	14. 2134 AD: Daughters and Dancing

Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing.

Author's Note: One more piece of complete and total fluff that really has no purpose except to provide a cushion for the story arc that's coming. Enjoy!

Special Thanks: This particular chapter is dedicated to my amazing dad. Thanks for loving me and for all of the memories we've made together. Particularly those that involved dancing. :)

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><p><strong>Daughters and Dancing<strong>

She's been with his unit for just over three years the first time he sees her in a dress.

General Philbrick has earned himself a fourth star, and a banquet is being held in his honor. A large number of the higher officers under his command have been invited, along with their families. And despite protests from the medic, Ayani insisted that included Wash.

The two of them went dress shopping earlier in the week trying to find something suitable for Wash to wear. Ayani herself is wearing a long red dress that leaves on shoulder bare, and her hair has been wrapped around itself to create a bun with two short strands of wavy hair hanging on either side of her face. Wash's dress, however, has been a secret that both women have refused to discuss.

Taylor and Lucas are sitting on the couch while they wait for the women to finish getting ready. Taylor himself is wearing his dress uniform with all of his pins and stripes. Lucas, on the other hand, is dressed in black pants with a white shirt and a black suit jacket.

Ayani comes out of the bedroom first, a smile on her face.

"May I present Ms. Alicia Washington," she says.

Taylor and Lucas both stand as Wash comes out. She's wearing a deep green dress that reaches halfway past her knees and it held up by two thin straps. Her wavy hair, which has slowly been getting longer since that first day and now reaches to her shoulders, has been pulled back on one side with a golden barrette and pushed behind her ear while the other side hangs free. She looks absolutely beautiful. And horribly nervous.

"Wow," Taylor says. He shakes his head.

"What do you think?" Wash asks nervously.

"You look amazing," Lucas says. Ayani grins at her son.

"You think so?" Wash asks.

"Definitely."

"I would have to agree," Taylor says. The beginnings of a smile touch his medic's face. Ayani wraps an arm around Wash's shoulders in a sort of hug.

"See?" she says encouragingly.

Lucas steps forward and holds out his hand.

"May I have this dance?" he asks in the most gentlemanly voice he can muster.

"I don't know how to dance," Wash admits.

"Neither do I," Lucas says, grinning sheepishly. Wash smiles and takes his hand.

Taylor slips an arm around his wife, and together they watch as Lucas and Wash stumble their way through something that resembles a dance. Neither of them really knows what they're doing, and it results in a great deal of laughter from both of them. They spin and step and trip their way around the room, both looking perfectly happy.

"Should we show them how it's done?" Ayani asks. In answer Taylor holds out his hand.

"My lady," he says. Ayani smiles and takes his hand.

"Colonel."

Wash and Lucas stop dancing for a moment to watch as Ayani and Taylor begins. It's obvious they have done this many times. They move as one, stepping gracefully in time. At one point Taylor dips Ayani and Lucas and Wash both start clapping. Then they grab each other's hands and join in.

All told they spend a good twenty minutes dancing and laughing. Somewhere along the way they switch partners, and Taylor finds himself holding Wash's hand while she spins around, a smile on her face and her green dress fluttering around her. Somehow it sets him thinking. He'd always wanted a daughter. A little girl he could dance with and scare boys away from and someday walk down the aisle. A little girl he could protect. But after Ayani's second pregnancy resulted in a miscarriage the doctors had said she could never have children again. He had been forced to let that dream go. He loved his son more than life itself, but somewhere in the back of his mind he had always wondered what it might have been like to have a daughter too, to be able to make those memories that only fathers and daughters can.

Now, as he catches Wash's other hand and they step into a rhythm, he decides that maybe he'll get to make some of those memories after all.

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><p>Please leave a review! And keep your eyes open for the next chapter, because things are about to get ineresting. :)<p> 


	15. 2135 AD: Save the Hero Part 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the grenades and flash bombs. Too bad they're imaginary...

Author's Note: This chapter begins a story arc with will cover a few chapters in a row and then will continue to be revisited throughout the rest of this fic (which I have every intention of continuing right up through the death of our favorite Lieutenant). What happens here will, I think, be a major shaping factor in Wash's character. The title comes from a song of the same name. Oh, and don't get too excited about the frequent updates. All my Monday classes were canceled this week due to a snow day, so this is what I did all day. After these next couple chapters my pace will probably slow back down again. But until then, enjoy!

Special Thanks: Firstly, a huge thank-you to the amazing Simone Kessell, who not only found time to read this piece, but also retweeted it and even called it "lovely". That means a lot to me. A huge thank-you also to Morganel, without whom Simone would never have read my fic. Thanks for your dedication to this story and your constant reviews and encouragement. You're awesome. :)

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><p><strong>Save the Hero (Part 1)<strong>

She's twenty-two when she slips through his fingers.

They're running through the jungle again. They seem to be doing a lot of that lately. Harrison took some shrapnel to his right leg and Jenkins is all but carrying him. Reese got hit in a blast and can hardly hear out of his left ear, which is bleeding. Collins is favoring an ankle she turned the night before. And the rebels are closing in fast. They are definitely in trouble.

Taylor, Beckman, and Wash drop back to provide some covering fire and try to buy the others some ground. It seems to work for a few minutes. But...

"We can't do this forever!" Wash yells, trying to be heard over the storm of gunfire. Beckman's gun clicks beside her and he reaches for his spare clip.

"This is my last one!" he shouts.

"We need more time!" Taylor yells.

"We don't have it!" Wash calls back. Their eyes meet for a moment and they both know it's true. Unless something drastic happens very soon, they're all going to die.

A stray bullet comes out of somewhere and grazes Taylor's side, causing a sudden flow of blood. He tries to cover it as best he can. He doesn't have time for this.

"Sir!" Wash yells.

"I fine!" he calls, gritting his teeth against the wave of pain.

"We need a plan, _now_," Beckman says.

"Give me your backpack!" Wash orders. For some reason he complies. He and Taylor continue to provide covering fire as best they can while Wash rummages through the backpack. When she pulls her hand out she's holding an armful of grenades and flash bombs, all unarmed. She goes back over to Beckman, explosives in hand.

"Once I go, you grab the Colonel and run like hell," she orders.

"What are you doing, Wash?" Taylor calls, suddenly very worried. She looks over her shoulder at him and suddenly he knows.

"Believing, sir," she says, strangely calm. Then she's on her feet and moving. "Go!"

She dashes through the brush, right in the direction of the enemy fire.

"Wash! No!" Taylor yells, but it's too late. Beckman crouches beside him as the first grenade goes off a short distance away.

"Sir, we have to go!" he yells.

"I'm not leaving her!" Taylor says fiercely.

"We don't have a choice!" Beckman says. There comes a storm of grenades and flash bombs amid the steady rain of gunfire. Taylor can almost feel his heart tearing in his chest. He can't save her. Not like this. And there is no way in hell Beckman is leaving him. His only hope is to go and pray she somehow survives.

He lets Beckman haul him to his feet and together they run. They run for their lives and the lives of their teammates. They run because it's what Wash wants.

They run because they know if they stop they'll go back.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Somehow an army patrol finds the unit before they drop dead from exhaustion and blood loss. While they're getting patched up at the base Taylor gets Philbrick, who is there recovering from the loss of his arm, to send a team sent out to the site of the gun battle to look for Wash. The rebels are long gone by the time they arrive. The jungle, however, is a mess of shrapnel and burn marks and bullet casings and dead bodies. Thankfully Wash is not among them. But that's where the good news ends. After hours in the jungle the soldiers are unable to find any trace of her. The lack of a body means she must have been captured. But they are also unable to find any trace of the rebels or where they went. It's as though they simply vanished. And Wash is with them.

"At least she's alive," Collins says, trying to stay optimistic.

"But for how long?" Taylor asks grimly.

No one has an answer.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The military hospital manages to contain Taylor for exactly thirty-seven hours and twenty-six minutes minutes before he forces and threatens his way out and practically breaks in to the room where Philbrick is staying. The general barely even has time to blink before Taylor speaks.

"Sir, circumstances forced to leave one of my men out there," he says. "I'm requesting authorization to go look for her."

"I have people following up every lead we can find," Philbrick says, trying to calm him down. "But we have precious little to go on."

"Then let my team try to find something," Taylor demands.

"Taylor, I appreciate your loyalties, but you were shot-" It's a lame excuse, and they both know it. Modern medicine can work wonders and Taylor is almost completely healed by now.

"We don't leave men behind," Taylor yells angrily. "You told me that!" He rounds the table Philbrick is sitting at and bangs his fist down on it, rattling the tray with the general's lunch. "She is one of my own, and I am not leaving her in that hellhole to die!"

"I am doing everything I can-" Philbrick tries again. Taylor cuts him off.

"I _am_ going after her," he says firmly, "and nothing you can say or do is going to stop me. So you can either give me your authorization now, or you can court marshal me when I get back."

Philbrick is silent for a long moment. Then he lets out a heavy sigh.

"Alright," he says finally. Seeing the look in Taylor's eyes, he quickly adds, "But I want to know where you are at all times. You go nowhere without my say-so. If I tell you to pull out, you do it. No questions, and no heroics. If I decide you can't handle this, you will be pulled out immediately. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Taylor says, standing up straight.

"Good," Philbrick says.

"Thank-you, sir," Taylor says. He turns and heads for the door. As he reaches it Philbrick calls after him.

"Nathaniel," he says. Taylor turns. Philbrick looks up, his face deadly serious. "Bring her home." Taylor nods.

"I will."

* * *

><p>Alright, you guys know how this works. The more reviews I get, the faster you get Part 2. :)<p> 


	16. 2135 AD: Save the Hero Part 2

Disclaimer: Still own nothing.

Author's Note: The highly anticipated Part 2. :) This chapter does not, however, conclude this particular storyline. There will be another two or three chapters following it up, and several events later on will tie back to it, so be sure to keep it in the back of your mind. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Save the Hero (Part 2)<strong>

She's been missing almost three months when they finally get a solid lead. The unit has been finding all kinds of reasons to stay in Somalia, taking on all manner of missions as an excuse to keep looking. Suddenly they are attacking the war as never before. It's personal now. But so far the rebels have always been one step ahead of them. Every leader they hunt down turns out to be a decoy. Every bit of credible information they get their hands on turns out to be too old. Every secret base they find is empty. Sometimes the lights are still warm, the air still smelling of freshly cooked meat. So close, and yet so far.

But this time they have it. The intel is so fresh they're almost afraid it may be a trick, but everything checks out. A call to Philbrick gets them a few extra squads from the base they've been recuperating at. He makes it quite clear that he's agreeing not because of Wash but because there are signs that this may be one of the top bases. But hey, they'll take it.

The strike team is ready in less than an hour. It takes them a day and a night to reach the alleged location of the base, more than enough time for the inhabitants to have left. Taylor can practically feel his own team holding their breath. None of them are ready to give up, but with every passing day Wash's chances of survival decrease astronomically. The Somalian rebels are known for being brutal, especially to those they capture. None of them have said it, but Taylor knows they're all afraid that it may already be too late.

They move on the base just before dawn. The key to this entire plan is stealth: if they are detected too soon, the rebels may have time to escape. Thankfully they manage to take out the furthest guards without a sound. When they've gotten as close as is humanly possible without detection, Taylor takes one last look at the compound through binoculars.

"We've got it completely surrounded," Reese says.

"They'll have underground exits," Taylor points out. In fact, the majority of the compound is probably underground. And who knows where those emergency exits could come up. He clicks his comm on. "We'll have to move in faster than they can retreat. We won't have time to take prisoners, but we need information. Our best chance is to injure. Aim for legs. Disarm them, ground them, and move on. We can collect prisoners on the way out. Don't kill unless you have to. And keep your eyes open for prisoners."

"If she's in there, we'll find her," Collins assures him. Taylor nods. He looks over his shoulder at his unit.

"Ready?" he asks. They nod. "Let's get 'em."

They fall on the compound like a storm. The sounds of gunfire and flash bombs ring up and down the corridors. The soldiers do their best just to injure and maim the rebels, but the Somalians know that those left alive will be captured and so make it incredibly difficult. There are far more casualties than Taylor would like, but regardless of orders that isn't his top priority. Wash is. And after thirty minutes of fighting they have yet to find her.

Once the main part of the compound is secured they fan out to explore the braching tunnels. It's Beckman who finds the ones leading to the crude interrogation rooms. There's a lot of blood and strange equipment that Taylor can only assume is used for torture, but no survivors. In fact, the only survivors they have are a few maimed fighters and a young boy who seems absolutely terrified. Everyone else either got themselves killed or managed to escape. But the chambers are still eerie. Taylor gets the feeling that something horrible happened in these rooms. He can only imagine what kinds of terrible things were done to the prisoners.

And then suddenly Collins is yelling for him.

"Sir! We found her!"

Taylor moves with all the speed of a tiger. Collins is standing outside of a crude wooden door with bars in the top. A group of soldiers is clustered around her, but she's letting none of them inside. No one is saying anything.

"She's in there," Collins says once Taylor reaches her. Her face is deadly serious, her body keeping him from seeing into the dirt room. "She's in shock of some kind. I'm afraid she'll panic. You may be the only one who can get through to her."

Taylor nods. He's dealt with traumatized soldiers before. Collins steps aside and lets him into the room. The door swings nearly shut behind him and the group outside gets even quieter, if that's even possible. The sight he sees inside the room causes his gut to twist. The room is small with dirt walls and a floor. A tiny slit-shaped window near the ceiling is at ground level and is letting in a bit of sunlight. And there on the floor beneath it is Wash.

She's gotten incredibly thin, which is no surprise. She probably hasn't had much to eat. Her hair is matted, her clothes dirty and fraying. Bruises cover her arms and legs. Her knees are pulled up to her chest and her face is buried in it, as if she's trying to hide from something. Taylor is torn between a breaking heart at what she's been through and a seething anger that wants to exact payment from the captives above ground. For all of her strength, she's still just a kid, damn it! No one deserves this, but especially not her. Not after all she's been through.

He walks up to her slowly and kneels down in front of her. She still isn't looking up.

"Wash?" he says gently. The muscles in her arm twitch, letting him know she's heard. Very carefully Taylor reaches out and touches her head. She flinches and her head jerks up. Taylor quickly rests his hands on her shoulders. "It's alright, Wash. It's me. It's okay."

Her eyes study his face as though she's trying to decide if he's real.

"Sir?" she manages. Her voice is raw and harsh. She's been damaged, maybe even broken, but at least she knows who he is. He nods.

"You're safe now," he promises.

For a moment she doesn't react. Then her jaw clenches and she swallows hard and suddenly she looks horribly close to tears. She leans forward, collapsing against him. Her hands take hold of his shirt and her face buries itself in his chest. His wraps his arms around her as tightly as he dares, trying not to put too much pressure on her bruised body.

"I've got you, Wash," he whispers. "You're safe."

Someone quietly enters the room and Taylor looks over his shoulder to see Collins.

"We called for the copter," she says quietly. Her eyes are wet. "They'll be here soon." Taylor nods and she steps back out to join the others.

The copter arrives twenty minutes later. Wash is obviously in no condition to walk, so Taylor slips one arm around her back and the other under her knees and carries her outside. There's a medical team with the pilot, but seeing the condition she's in they decide to let her stay with him. He holds her the entire three hour ride to the medical facility. At some point she falls asleep, her face still hidden in his shirt.

When they reach the facility there's a team waiting with a gurney. Wash flinches at the voices, signaling that she's awake, and when he tries to hand her over to them she goes into a full-fledged panic attack. It takes him almost ten minutes to get her calm again. In the end they inject her with a sedative and he holds her until she loses consciousness. Then he sets her on the gurney and the staff wheels her through a door that he isn't allowed to enter. So he sits down with his back against the wall and waits.

He's still there when the rest of his unit arrives several hours later.

"How is she?" Reese asks.

"She's been through a lot," Taylor says, getting to his feet. "Physically she's gonna be okay. It'll take a while, but she'll heal. But mentally, emotionally..." He shakes his head. "They just don't know."

"She's a strong kid," Jenkins says. Taylor can't decide if he's saying it for himself, or for the others. "If anyone can make it, it's her."

"What do we do now?" Hammond asks.

"We wait," Taylor says. His eyes drift back to the door Wash disappeared behind. "Wait and pray."

* * *

><p>So obviously she lives. But if you want to know anything more than that, you'll have to wait for the next chapter. :) In the meantime, how about a review?<p> 


	17. 2135 AD: Save the Hero Part 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Note: Originally this was just going to be a short scene at the beginning of the next chapter, but it kept getting bigger so I just made it a separate chapter. This will be the last part of "Save the Hero", but the storyline is not yet over. The next couple chapters will deal with Wash's recovery and the lasting effects of her capture. Sorry this one's kinda short. I'll try to have the next one up soon. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Save the Hero (Part 3)<strong>

She's been at the facility eight days when they decide to send her to a rehabilitation center for soldiers. All her physical wounds have been either fixed or put on track toward healing, and the hospital has nothing more to offer her. Now she needs to concentrate on recovering. And they don't just mean physically. Wash has almost completely shut herself off since her rescue. She barely talks, and she only eats just enough to get by. The young medic who used to be so full of laughter and affection towards those she cared about has turned into a stony face that barely reacts and flinches violently away from touch. She won't talk about what happened, not that Taylor's really surprised. In fact she doesn't talk much at all. The members of the unit can get short answers out of her, and Taylor can usually get small sentences. But the hospital staff never gets anything beyond a nod or shake of her head.

She does, however, seem to relax a bit when one of her teammates is with her. They try to keep one of them with her at all times. Sometimes they just sit, but usually they try to talk about something. It doesn't really matter what, seeing as Wash gives very little feedback. But she does listen, and somehow their familiar voices seem to ever so slightly ease the tension that now seems a constant part of her body. Her posture is always stiff, her limbs tense, as if she's expecting to have to either fight or run. Her eyes are always on whoever is in the room, and it makes her nervous when there are too many people around for her to watch them all. The doctors say it's fairly common for people who have been through such traumatic events. Taylor just hopes it goes away. He doesn't know if he could stand it if it turns out that they saved Wash just to lose her.

Aside from rescuing Wash, however, the raid was also a success for other reasons. A few of the prisoners they took have actually turned up valuable intel that could prove useful if they act quickly. Since Taylor's unit is the closest personally to this particular struggle, Philbrick has asked them all to remain in Somalia for just a little longer to help finish mopping up the remains of this particular cell. Despite their desire to make sure Wash is alright they all agree to stay behind. At this point the best way they can help her is by bringing her captors to justice.

The six of them say their good-byes to Wash one by one, all wishing her a quick recovery. Taylor is the last to go in. Wash is sitting in a chair by the window, her knees to her chest and her arms around them. She's still too thin, and the fading bruises are still visible. She looks up as he comes in and there's a hard defensiveness to her that he isn't used to seeing, almost as though she's suddenly dropped a wall between herself and the rest of the world. There's a chair across from her, and he takes it. She barely even reacts.

"They're sending you to a rehab center," he explains after a moment. "You shouldn't be there long. And it's close to home, so Ayani and Lucas said they'll visit as much as they can."

"And you?" Wash asks. Her voice is still rough from damage caused by a mixture of too much pained screaming and not enough water. That and the fact that she barely speaks.

"We still have some cleaning up to do," he says. He doesn't want Wash to know that they're on a massive manhunt for the men who put her in this condition. She knows what these men can do and it will only make her worry. "It won't take long."

They sit in silence for a moment, and then Taylor sighs and gets to his feet.

"You get better, okay?" he says. Wash nods, but it isn't very emphatic. "I'll see you soon, Wash."

He wants to reach out and lay a hand on her shoulder, but he knows if he does she'll flinch at the contact and he doesn't want to put her in that position. So instead he just turns and makes his way to the door.

"Sir?" Her voice stops him just before his hand touches the door handle. There's a sudden intensity to it, a desperation that he isn't used to hearing from her. He turns back around to find her eyes on him, her face searching for something.

"Promise?" she says softly. Once again Taylor finds himself firmly divided between holding her until she's okay or going back to base and beating the life out of the bastards who did this. But for now he just nods, letting her know that he has no intention of leaving her alone for any longer than he has to.

"I promise."

* * *

><p>Please leave a review. Otherwise I'll be forced to send my ninjas after you. ;)<p> 


	18. 2135 AD: Picking Up the Pieces

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the tiger. :)

Author's Note: And the story continues. Those of you waiting on a breakdown and a hug will have to wait one more chapter. But it is coming, I promise. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Picking Up the Pieces<strong>

She's been in rehab over two months when the team finally gets leave to go home for a while. What was supposed to be a simple clean-up operation had quickly spiraled into something much more extensive. Taylor is exhausted, and he knows his men are too. So after eating dinner with his family and sleeping more soundly than he has in months he gets up and goes to visit Wash. Before he leaves, however, he wants to talk to Ayani.

"So how is she really?" he asks once Lucas has left for school. Ayani sighs.

"Physically she's fine," she says, sitting down across the table from him. "Everything is healed and she exercises as much as they let her. She still isn't eating as much as she should, but it's getting better. She's started talking a bit more, at least to Lucas and I. But beyond that..." She shakes her head. "She keeps mostly to herself. Lucas goes by after school every day and they play chess. I try to go on Sundays when I can."

"Has she said anything about...?" Taylor trails off. Ayani shakes her head.

"She won't talk about it at all. It's like there's this... wall around her. That's the main problem. Physically she can leave whenever she wants to. But they won't let her go until she meets with a therapist to assess how she's coping. They've tried several times, but she refuses to talk."

"Maybe I can help with that," Taylor says. Ayani reaches across the table and takes his hand in hers.

"I don't care what you have to do or who you have to call," she says, completely serious. "Just get her out of there. I can't keep watching her waste away." Taylor leans over and gives his wife a small kiss.

"I'll do what I can," he promises.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

A few quick directions from the staff gets Taylor to Wash's room. He opens the door with barely a sound. In the fraction of a second before Wash turns her head he sees her sitting on the bed curled up against the headboard, staring out the window. The tiger Lucas gave her is in her arms. Then she sees him and the tiger hits the bed as she jumps to her feet and stands at attention.

"Sir!" she says quickly. She looks horribly glad to see him, but the look is immediately replaced with something he can't name. A mixture of wariness and something bordering on shame.

"At ease, Private," he says, smiling warmly. Her arms hang a bit more loosely at that, but the rest of her is still tense. He steps over to the chair by the bed and motions for her to sit as well. She quickly does.

"How you been, Wash?" he asks.

"I've been better, sir," she says simply. Six months ago there would have been a hint of sarcasm in her voice, a joking twinkle in her eye. Now it's just a flat statement used to deflect his question.

"The staff says you're doing pretty well," Taylor says, pretending not to notice how low she sounds. "They said you're free to go as soon as you take the psych eval."

Wash looks away.

"You know, Ayani's pretty worried about you," he continues. "So's Lucas."

"I'm fine, sir," Wash says, still not meeting his eyes.

"No you're not," Taylor says. Wash flinches a bit at his words, so he continues gently, "But I'm not asking you to be. I'm just asking you to get out of here and come home. We'll deal with the rest later."

Wash doesn't say anything. Taylor rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward, trying to get her attention.

"You know," he says, giving her a small smile, "I had no idea just how scraped up we all get until there wasn't anybody there to fix things properly." He pauses for a moment. "I need my medic back, Wash."

"I can't, sir," she says softly.

"Look at me, Wash," Taylor says gently. She closes her eyes for a moment, and then she looks up. Her eyes are pained. "I don't know what they did to you, although I can understand why you don't want to talk. But I also know they won't let you out until you do. And believe me when I say you need out of here."

"Sir-" Wash begins, but Taylor cuts her off.

"I'm not asking you to give them all the details. Hell, I'm even asking you to tell the truth. You tell them whatever they want to hear. You just get yourself out of here, okay?"

Wash hesitates for a long moment, and then she finally forces a nod.

"Okay," Taylor says. Wash lets out a heavy breath. Taylor gets to his feet and leans over to press a gentle kiss against her forehead. Her eyes squeeze shut, but she doesn't flinch. "I'll see you at home."

"See you, sir," Wash says. Her voice is still a little rough from disuse, but he'll take it. She's confirmed his suspicions. His medic is still in there somewhere behind the walls and bruises and broken pieces.

Now he just has to find her.

* * *

><p>You guys know how much I like reviews. You want the next chapter? Leave a review. Please. :)<p> 


	19. 2135 AD: Exit Wounds

Disclaimer: I own nothing. End of story.

Author's Note: I apologize profusely for the distance between updates. I've been really busy the last two weeks with midterms and tests and projects. But I'm on Spring Break this week, so hopefully I'll be able to make up for it. For those of you who are starting to get worried, I assure you that I currently have no intention of giving up this story. But enough of me talking. The title of this chapter is also the name of a great song by The Script. You should listen to it. Enjoy the new chapter!

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><p><strong>Exit Wounds<strong>

She comes home three days later. Apparently she said whatever the psych eval required her to say. Taylor has a feeling it was all been a load of bull, but the important thing was that she's back home where he and Ayani can keep an eye on her. It's obvious to both of them that Wash has been deeply scarred by whatever happened to her. She still flinches at touches she isn't expecting and sudden loud noises threaten to send her into a panic attack. For the most part she says very little. Lucas spends as much time with her as he possibly can, and something about his constant talking actually seems to calm her on some level. Ayani and Taylor, on the other hand, are held at a distance, almost as though Wash is afraid too much contact with them will cause her to crack. Both of them are starting to wonder if that would really be such a bad thing.

She's been back in the apartment a week when Taylor is woken at two in the morning by the sounds of someone moving around the apartment. He knows immediately who it is. Wash has been battling insomnia since her return, making her the only one with any reason to be up at this hour. Taylor tugs on a pair of sweatpants and slips out into out of the bedroom.

Wash is in the kitchen getting a glass of water. Despite her usually sharpened senses, she gives no sign that she's heard him. He makes it all the way to the edge of the kitchen before the floor makes a slight creaking.

Only his military reflexes save him from the punch Wash sends his way. He sees her arm draw back as she whirls around and puts up his own hand to catch the blow. Her hand collides with his palm, his fingers curling around it to hold it in place. It takes her a second to realize who he is, but her eyes widen as soon as she does.

"Sir," she says quickly. She sounds slightly shocked and also a bit ashamed.

"Evening, Wash," Taylor says, letting go of her hand.

"Sorry," she says. She turns around to pick up her glass of water in an attempt to avoid his gaze.

"No harm done," he tells her. She shrugs. "You having some trouble sleeping?"

"Always do, sir," she says. This formality is beginning to bother him. Just before her capture he had finally gotten her to stop calling him "sir" while they were at home. Her sudden return to the old habit is just one more of the many walls she has constructed since her rescue.

"You know, we could get you some medication if you wanted," Taylor offers, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. Wash shakes her head, taking a drink of water as she does so.

"I'd rather not, sir."

"Any particular reason?" he asks. Wash looks down at her glass and toys with it a moment before answering.

"They keep me from waking up," she says quietly. It takes Taylor a moment to figure out what she means. But when it hits him he understands.

"Are the nightmares bad?" he asks, wanting to hear her say it.

"Sometimes," she says. She puts her glass in the sink and steps around him on her way out of the kitchen. As far as she's concerned, the conversation is over.

Taylor, however, is just getting started.

"Are you gonna spend the rest of your life like this?" he asks. "Trying to act like it never happened?"

Wash stops halfway across the living room. She doesn't turn, doesn't speak. But his words have obviously had an impact.

"You can't go on like this," Taylor says, taking a step towards her. "You don't sleep, you don't talk, you barely eat. It's like all the life's gone out of you." He takes another step, stopping at the end of the couch. "Someday you're gonna have to face it."

"What if I can't?" Wash asks angrily. She turns around, a fire blazing in her eyes. "What if I can't handle all those memories? What if it hurts too much?"

"So what?" Taylor asks, raising his voice to match hers. "You're just gonna spend your whole life running?"

"I'm not running," Wash says through clenched teeth.

"The hell you're not!" Taylor says. "You have never run from anything in your whole life! So why now?"

"Because I can't do this!"

"Then let us help you," he says, taking another step towards her.

"You can't help me!" Wash yells.

The apartment is totally silent. Taylor doesn't know what to say. Wash struggles visibly for a moment, and when she finally finds her voice it is so quiet Taylor has to strain to hear it.

"Some things can't be fixed," she says softly.

Taylor stays where he is for a moment, trying to decide what to say. Ayani is much better at this than he is. But she's asleep, and by the time he wakes her up Wash will have locked herself in her bedroom and the moment will be over. This one's all him.

She doesn't look up as he walks over to her. He hesitates for a moment before reaching out and carefully placing his hands on her shoulders. She flinches, but she doesn't look up.

"Look at me, Wash," Taylor says.

She shuts her eyes tightly for a few seconds before finally looking up at him.

"Anybody can be fixed," he says, looking her straight in the eyes. "But you can't do it alone. And I can't help if you won't let me."

Wash hesitates and then tears slowly fill her eyes. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. And then the tears begin to run down her cheeks.

Taylor's heart breaks. He wraps her in his arms, holding her tight against him. He can feel her tears soaking through his shirt as her hands find a death-grip on the material. Her whole body is shaking from the force of her silent sobs.

"I got you, Wash," Taylor assures her. "You're gonna be okay."

As much as it kills him to see her in this state, he knows she needs this. She's finally allowing herself to break. All her carefully constructed walls have come crashing down. Now they can begin to pick up the pieces. In time she'll begin to heal.

He'll make sure of it.

* * *

><p>Reviews make a happy author, which increases the chances of an update in the near future. Just saying. :)<p> 


	20. 2135 AD: Recovery Begins

Disclaimer: Pretty sure we've already established that I own nothing but the plot bunnies.

Author's Note: Once again, I apologize for the long delay. I'm currently in the process of trying to write a novel and the first draft is almost done, so that's been consuming most of my free time. I would like to say that I'll try and update more frequently, but I only have a month of school left so everything is beginning to get hectic. So maybe in a month when I'm back on summer break I'll be able to sit down and do some real work on this. Until then please bear with me and my sporatic updates. This chapter officially concludes the story arc dealing with Wash's cature. But I can promise you that's not the only card I have up my sleeve for this story. :) Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Recovery Begins<strong>

She's sound asleep when he leaves the next morning. He has a meeting to go to, but he steps into her room before he leaves just to be sure she's okay. The night before she had cried in his arms until she was too weak to even stand, and in the end he'd had to carry her back to her bed. He had sat beside her until she fell asleep before carefully tucking the blankets around her. Now he watches her for a moment as she sleeps, half-expecting her to jerk awake from another nightmare the way she did her first night back. She had woken up screaming, and it had taken Ayani a good twenty minutes to calm her down. Taylor has a feeling the nightmares are still there, hiding beneath the surface. Wash has just gotten better at hiding them.

His meeting goes much longer than he expects, and Lucas is already back from school by the time he finally arrives.

"Hey, Dad!" he says, sticking his head out of his room. He has a pair of plastic goggles on his head, and Taylor is too afraid to ask what exactly his son is concocting on the other side of the door. Lucas has displayed a strong aptitude for chemistry, and after seeing how much he enjoys it Ayani told him that as long as he doesn't set anything on fire and it all stays in his room (smells included) he can carry out whatever chemical experiments he wants provided that he takes the proper safety precautions. With the exception of one weekend the whole apartment smelled like rotten eggs, Lucas has done a fairly good job of keeping up his end of the deal.

"How was school?" Taylor asks.

"Great!" Lucas says. "I got a one hundred on my algebra test. And my science fair project is almost finished. You're still coming, right?"

"I wouldn't miss it," Taylor confirms. Lucas' grin widens. "How's Wash doing?"

"I dunno," Lucas says, a slight frown creasing his forehead. "She's in her room with Mom. They've been in there a long time."

"I'll go check on them," Taylor says. Lucas nods.

"Dad?" he asks. "Is she gonna be okay?"

"She will," Taylor promises. "It's just gonna take some time." Lucas nods and disappears into his room, closing the door behind him.

Taylor makes his way down the hallway to the door to Wash's room. He gives a small knock before carefully opening the door. Wash and Ayani are sitting on the bed with their hands joined. They both look up as he comes in. Ayani's eyes are red and Wash has obviously been crying. She quickly wipes her face with her sleeve when she sees Taylor.

"Hey," he says, not knowing what else to say. Wash quickly gets to her feet, obviously embarrassed that he's seen her cry twice now in the past twenty-four hours.

"I, uh, told Lucas I'd help him with his science project," she says awkwardly. Ayani stands beside her and pulls her into a hug, which Wash reciprocates. For a moment Taylor isn't sure if she'll let go. But finally she does, and Ayani gives her a kind smile that she manages to weakly reciprocate. Then she carefully steps around him and out the door. A moment later they hear the door to Lucas' room open and shut and then the muffled sounds of Lucas talking excitedly.

"How is she?" Taylor asks his wife. Ayani shrugs and comes to stand beside him.

"She's been through a lot," she says. "But she's strong. Give her time."

"Did she tell you what happened?"

"Some of it." Ayani's eyes are pained.

"You want to tell me?" Taylor asks. She shakes her head.

"When she wants you to know, you will," she says quietly. "But right now she doesn't. She needs you to respect that."

"Okay," Taylor says quietly. It hurts a little that Wash would tell something to Ayani and not him, but he understands.

There comes a loud noise from Lucas' room that sounds suspiciously like a small explosion. Taylor and Ayani exchange a look.

"We better go make sure they don't destroy the apartment," Ayani says with just the slightest hint of sarcasm. Taylor laughs.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

They all eat dinner together that night the way they always do when Taylor and Wash are home. Ayani has somehow gotten her hands on enough canned apples to make a pie, which is absolutely delicious. Halfway through desert, Lucas looks up with a grin on his face.

"I know a joke," he says. Ayani and Taylor exchange a look, knowing that it will probably be a geeky one.

"Okay, shoot," Taylor says.

"What do you call it when you divide an apple's circumference by its diameter?" he says. His barely-restrained grin tells them all just how cheesy this is going to be.

"I have no idea," Taylor says. He looks over at Ayani, but she just shrugs. Wash's face is carefully stoic, but she's obviously listening.

"Apple pie," Lucas says proudly.

Ayani smiles and shakes her head. It takes Taylor a bit longer to figure it out. He's just about to comment when he's interrupted by a small noise that sounds suspiciously like a snort. He and Ayani both exchange a look, but the noise didn't come from either of them. Together they look over at Wash. She's looking down at her plate with her fork in her hand and a trace of a smile on her face. As they watch she looks up and meets Lucas' eyes. His grin widens at the sight of her and then hers widens at the sight of his. Then Lucas starts laughing and all of a sudden Wash is laughing with him. It's the most beautiful sound Taylor has ever heard. He looks back at Ayani to see that her eyes are wet and there's a big smile on her face. Then she starts laughing too and Taylor can't help but join in.

As they sit around the table together laughing so hard they're about to cry, Taylor suddenly knows without a doubt that they really are going to be okay.

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><p>You guys know the drill. :) Reviews will make my day, and they also make me feel increasingly guilty for not updating sooner.<p> 


	21. 2136 AD: Blame It On the Alcohol

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the dialogue, the OC's, and Harrison's right hook.

Author's Note: So I realize that it's been almost a year since I last updated this fic. The sad truth is that I have no good excuse other than being at the mercy of my muse. Where it goes, my writing follows. And for the past ten months that has been everywhere but Terra Nova. But at long last it has returned and there are now several more chapters in my sights. I do apologize for the unintentional and rather unacceptable hiatus. I shall try to get the next few chapters up as quickly as possible to try and make it up to you. Please know that I do have every intention of finishing this story, although there may be other long breaks before I get there. But for now I'm back. To all the newcomers to this fic, welcome aboard. And to everyone who has spent the last year waiting, thank-you for your patience and your commitment to this story. I hope you enjoy this chapter and the ones to come. :)

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><p><strong>Blame It on the Alcohol<strong>

She's just turned twenty-three the first time he sees her drunk. Well, technically she isn't drunk. But that's what they tell everyone afterwards. It makes the ensuing events a little more acceptable.

The whole team has gone out to a bar to celebrate her birthday as well as the fact that she'll be rejoining them in the field when they ship out next week. She passed her final psych eval and now she's back on active duty. It's definitely cause for celebration.

They've been there about two hours when everybody starts slowing down. Wash is usually pretty good with her alcohol, but tonight she just keeps going. Taylor isn't sure if he's the only one seeing it or if everyone else is just choosing not to comment because of everything she's been through. But by the end of hour three he's pretty sure she's well on her way to drunk. It's a bit interesting, really. Taylor's been with these people long enough to see each of them get a little tipsy. Collins gets in a really good mood and starts laughing at things that aren't funny. Hammond gets so jittery he can't sit still. Beckman just gets dizzy and eventually passes out. Jenkins hasn't hit his limit in years, but Taylor can still remember when they were young soldiers and he got so drunk he stood on a table and started singing. Now Reese is the singer. Although after his first embarrassing concert a few years back he's been pretty careful about how much he drinks. Wash, on the other hand, is just quiet and tense. So much so that Taylor begins to think that she might eventually explode.

He's about to suggest they head home when some drunk idiot comes stumbling over to their table. The dimwit's eyes land on Wash and he lets out a whistle. Taylor's hand tightens around his beer. This is not going to end well.

"Look a' choo," the man slurs. He leans against the table, the smell of alcohol coming off of him in waves. "You come here offen?"

Wash is making a clear point of looking into her beer instead of at him, but Taylor can see her jaw clench. Harrison is the closest to her and he immediately bristles.

"Leave her alone," he says threateningly. Somewhere along the way, the former rich boy has appointed himself Wash's unofficial older brother. And that means that, while he may tease her to no end, he'll also knock the lights out of anyone else who so much as looks at her funny. Taylor almost feels sorry for the poor idiot in front of him. He has absolutely no idea who he's messing with.

"I wazzun talkin ta yoo," the drunk says. He turns so his back is to Harrison so he can focus on Wash. He points his finger in her general direction, but the alcohol is making him unsteady. "Now you... You're preddy."

"He said, leave her alone," Reese says. His voice is cold as ice. The entire unit is tense now, ready for a fight.

"I suggest you get out of here," Jenkins adds calmly. Anyone who knows him at all knows that a voice that calm is deadly. The drunk, however, has no idea.

"Eezy," the drunk slurs. "I jus wanna have sum fun. Right, sweetheart?"

He leans forward like he's going to kiss Wash. Harrison moves to grab him, probably intending to beat him to a pulp, but before he gets there the drunk's hand lands on Wash's shoulder. That's all it takes for something inside of her to finally snap. She's out of her chair before any of them can react, a swift kick throwing the man off balance. In the time it takes to blink Wash is behind him with her left arm wrapping under his and coming back up to grab him by the hair. Her right hand has a knife pressed against his throat.

"Wash!" Taylor calls. The entire unit is on their feet, but they're all frozen now. Wash meets Taylor's eyes and for a moment he sees a flicker of confusion. Then he understands. She wasn't trying to hurt the man. She was just reacting against what her tortured subconscious perceived as a threat.

"Whoa," the drunk stammers. His eyes are wide as his clouded brain finally registers the situation he has landed himself in. "Eezy. It wuz jus a joke."

"Let him go," Taylor says firmly. Wash's eyes flicker from him to the man she's holding and then back. For a fraction of a second he isn't sure she'll listen. But then she steps away, her hands held up in the air to show him she means no harm. The drunk staggers and clutches at his throat.

"You coulda killed meh," he slurs. There's something resembling fear in his eyes. Wash looks at Taylor for a moment, an entire silent conversation passing between them. Then she turns and walks rapidly out of the bar.

"She's crayzee," the drunk man says. Without a word, Harrison curls his hand into a fist and slams it right into the man's face. He falls backward, straight as a board. He's unconscious before he even hits the floor.

"Sorry about that, Colonel," Harrison says as he turns back around. "I just couldn't help myself." It's obvious he doesn't regret it one bit.

"I didn't see a thing," Taylor says calmly. Harrison grins in site of himself.

"I'll get the tab," Jenkins tells Taylor. "You go ahead."

"Thanks," Taylor says. He pushes back his chair and gets to his feet.

"Colonel?" Beckman says. "Go easy on her. He deserved it."

"I'd say he deserved a lot more," Reese mutters. The others all nod in agreement. It makes Taylor's heart swell with pride that his people are so protective of each other. That bond had kept them alive on more than one occasion. But Wash has caused a breach of discipline, so he forces himself to keep his commanding officer face on.

"I'll keep that in mind," he says. He turns to go, but then he turns back, unable to resist. "Harrison? If that piece of trash wakes up before you leave, you hit him again for me."

Harrison grins and gives him a smart salute.

"Yes, sir!"

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Wash is in the kitchen when he gets back to the apartment. Her hair is wet and she's drying her face with a towel. She probably stuck her head in the sink and ran ice-cold water on herself in any effort to shake off any aftereffects of the alcohol. She swallows hard when she sees Taylor. Thankfully the rest of the apartment is empty. Ayani has taken Lucas to a science exhibit in town and they aren't back yet. Taylor has a feeling Wash won't want them to know about the incident at the bar.

"Sir," she says awkwardly.

"Wash," he says. He crosses his arms and just stands there, waiting. For a moment there is complete silence in the kitchen. Then Wash straightens and takes a deep breath.

"I apologize, sir," she says. She's in full military mode now. "My behavior was unacceptable and I am prepared to accept the consequences of my actions."

"I'll make you a deal," Taylor says. "You promise me you won't try to kill the next person who touches you and I'll agree to just blame tonight's incident on the alcohol."

Wash is silent a moment, turning over his words in her head to be sure he means them. Which he does. They both know it was an unacceptable display, but he knows Wash enough to know that she's beating herself up internally far more than he ever could. Besides, she's admitted to Ayani that she's nervous about going back into the field again. He's been expecting the combination of nerves and fading PTSD to cause an explosion at some point. In all honesty, he's surprised it wasn't bigger.

"Thank-you, sir," Wash says finally. Taylor just nods.

"I wouldn't worry too much about the drunk," he adds. "I doubt he'll remember any of it in the morning anyway. In, fact he may not even remember his own name."

"Sir?" Wash asks, obviously confused.

"Let's just say Harrison has a mean right hook," Taylor says simply. For a moment Wash just stares at him. Then a twinkle enters her eyes.

"Good hit?" she asks.

"Square in the face," Taylor says. "He dropped like a rock. Out before he even hit the floor." The corner of Wash's mouth tugs up. Taylor knows he's supposed to be getting on to her, but that almost-grin warms his heart and suddenly all he wants to do is keep it there.

"Besides," he says. "As far as drunken displays go, I've seen far worse."

"Really?" Wash asks curiously. She crosses her arms across her chest and leans back against the counter. Taylor does the same.

"Yup," he says, getting comfortable. His comrades are going to hate him for this, but the look on Wash's face makes it all worth it. "Have you ever heard Jenkins sing?"

This time Wash's grin is a full one.

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><p>I'm already working hard on the next few chapters, so hopefully they won't be long in coming. How about you pass the time by leaving me a review? Rants on my unaccaptable leave of absence are also accepted. As my prof says: "Questions? Comments? Snide remarks?"<p> 


	22. 2136 AD: As You Go

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the knife. Unfortunately, it's imaginary. Although if someone were to buy me a gift that awesome, they would probably be my best friend.

Author's Note: Told you guys I was back for real. :) The next few chapters should be going up fairly quick as my sort of apology for abandoning this story for so long. The title comes from a song by RED and the chapter itself has some fluff between Wash and Lucas. I'm really enjoying writing their relationship. It only makes what we all know will happen that much more heart-breaking. Anyway. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

***Special thanks to morningsong101, metube, and Cistena for still being loyal to this story after almost a year of nothing. Your reviews made my day.***

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><p><strong>As You Go<strong>

They're leaving for the base before shipping out to Somalia when he finally knows his old medic is back for real.

The transport has just called ahead to say that they'll be at the house in about ten minutes. After depositing his own bag by the door, Taylor heads to Wash's room to check on her. She's looking down into the unzipped bag atop her bed when he reaches her open doorway. He notes with satisfaction that there are still a few items inside her partially open drawers. No longer is she capable of fitting her entire life into the one bag. She looks up as he enters and quickly zips the bag shut, but not before he catches sight of the familiar stuffed tiger crammed inside. The small animal has become a permanent part of her gear since Lucas gave it to her. Her own personal good luck charm.

"Ready to go?" Taylor asks. He knows her bag is because she's packed and repacked the same things into it at least a hundred times over the last three days. It's her that he isn't entirely sure about.

Wash looks down at the bag and then back up at him.

"I think so, sir," she says. Her voice is firm, but her eyes betray a slight nervousness.

"It's not too late to change your mind, you know," Taylor says, stepping into the room. "I can make some calls and get your assignment changed."

"I need to do this, sir," Wash says. It might just be his imagination, but he could swear she stands up a little straighter. "I have to face it sooner or later. Might as well get it over with."

Her tone may be even, but the words speak volumes. She's nervous about going back into the field. Maybe even scared. But she's also determined to face her fear. In that moment he sees a flicker of the Wash he used to know, the one who could have looked the Devil himself right in the eyes and still held her ground. It's not that she isn't afraid. Only fools are afraid of nothing. It's that she's determined not to let her fear master her.

"Good answer," Taylor says approvingly. Wash shrugs, satisfied to have passed his test. "You should go say your good-byes. The transport'll be here any minute."

Wash slings her bag over her shoulder and heads out into the hall. Ayani and Lucas are both waiting in the small living room when she comes out. She heads for the door, setting her back next to Taylor's. Then she turns and jams her hands in her pockets in that way she does when she's not really sure what to do next.

"All set?" Ayani asks as she stands. Wash nods.

"I think so," she says.

"Not quite," Lucas says. He looks unusually nervous as he stands in front of Wash with his hands behind his back. It still amazes Taylor that the two of them can be so close when there are eleven years between them. Although Lucas is far more mature and infinitely smarter than any child his age. But for whatever reason, the two of them are practically inseparable when Wash is home. They're either in her room talking about anything and everything or in his room working on science projects that Taylor isn't sure he could understand even if he tried. They certainly look like an odd pair, but it doesn't take long to see that they bring out the best in each other.

"I got you something," Lucas says solemnly as he looks up at Wash. "To keep you safe."

Ever since Wash was cleared for duty Lucas has worried about her going back into the field. He's worried about his father before, but never like this. But then, Taylor's never been captured and tortured half to death.

Now Lucas pulls his hands out from behind his back and presents Wash with her gift: a knife. A very expensive and finely crafted knife only available to highly trained soldiers, although it's far better quality than the standard army-issue knives. The double-edged blade is razor sharp with one edge jagged for sawing and one edge straight for smooth cuts. The hilt is wrapped in black leather to aid with gripping. The small sheath is made of matching black leather. It looks simple, but the blade is made from an impossibly strong metal and specially treated to keep it from rusting or going dull. Taylor had to make multiple phone calls to get approval to buy it and even more to ensure that his eleven-year-old son could be the one to put his carefully collected savings into the seller's hands. But Lucas doesn't know any of that and Taylor isn't about to tell him. This gift was his idea and Taylor is far too proud of his son to risk ruining that.

Wash's expression is hard to read as she reaches out and takes the knife carefully in her hands. She gives her wrist a flick to test it. It cuts the air perfectly and the balance it just right. Then she looks at the black sheath and sees the stalking tiger that has been carefully carved into one side of it.

"It's perfect," she says honestly. Lucas hands her the sheath and she carefully places the knife in it. Then she suddenly holds up a finger for him to stay put. She crouches down beside her bag, carefully placing the knife into a side pocket. When she stands back up she's holding her stuffed tiger.

"You take care of him for me," she says, holding him out to Lucas. "I'll be back for him. Promise."

Lucas takes the tiger without a word and hugs it to himself. It should seem a bit silly, really. They all know a small knife and a stuffed animal aren't going to keep anyone safe anymore than a promise will secure a safe return. But there's something about the exchange that visibly calms them both. Maybe because it gives them something to hold onto.

Suddenly Lucas steps forward and wraps his arms tightly around Wash's middle. She staggers back a half step, surprised. But then her arms are locked tightly around him.

"Be careful," Lucas says. His voice is full of emotion.

"I will," Wash promises. She pulls back and looks him square in the face. "We'll be back soon, okay?"

Lucas forces himself to nod. Then he turns to hug his father. Taylor holds him tightly, deeply touched by this tender side of his son.

"I'll take good care of her," he promises.

"Take care of yourself too," Lucas says as he pulls away. His eyes are red, but he's too old now to let himself cry. Instead he bravely squares his shoulders.

"I will," Taylor assures him.

Ayani has drawn Wash into a hug and is telling her something that only she can hear. The only part Taylor catches is "...be okay." Wash nods into Ayani's shoulder. Then she pulls away and takes a deep breath. Ayani gives her a reassuring smile.

Wash turns without a word and picks up her bag. Then she waits patiently by the door while Taylor hugs and kisses his wife. When he's finished, he picks up his own bag. Ayani slips an arm around Lucas's shoulders as the boy waves a final good-bye. Wash waves back and Taylor gives him a firm nod. Then they step out into the stairwell.

The transport is waiting outside the building when they get to the bottom of the stairs. Taylor turns to Wash with his hand on the door handle.

"You sure about this?" he asks again. "I could talk to Philbrick about finding you a desk job for a while."

Wash shakes her head.

"I need to do this, sir," she repeats. "Besides, I wouldn't do very well with a desk job."

"And why's that?" Taylor asks curiously.

"First of all because I don't sit still well," Wash points out. Taylor feels a grin tugging at his face. It's true. One time Wash fractured a bone in her leg and somehow poor Collins was relegated the task of making sure she stayed put while the rest of the team went back into the field to finish their mission. She lasted exactly three hours and twenty-seven minutes before she marched herself out of the hospital room and told the ranking officer that she wasn't being paid enough to babysit an immobile Wash and that if he ordered her to go back in there then he was going to have to court marshal her. When Taylor and the others finally got back, they had found Wash drugged into unconsciousness with Collins sitting beside her bed calmly reading a book.

"And secondly?" Taylor asks, sensing that there's more.

"I'm not very good at Solitaire," Wash says seriously. Her face is so straight that it takes a second for the joke to register. When it does, Taylor chuckles and claps a hand on her shoulder.

"It's good to have you back, Wash," he says seriously. She gives him a nod and he knows without a doubt that the young woman looking back at him is his old medic.

"It's good to be back, sir."

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><p>If you like this story and you want my muse to stay happy, please take pity on the poor author and leave her a review. :)<p> 


	23. 2136 AD: Campfire Confessions

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Harrison's traumatic fear of roller coasters.

Author's Note: So I had a really busy week and didn't have time to finish this chapter until now. Plus it was a bit hard to come up with something that was in character for everyone. (You'll see what I mean when you read it.) But it's done now and hopefully the next one won't be too far behind. Enjoy!

***This chapter is specifically dedicated to Cistena. The account given here probably isn't nearly as detailed as you would like, but I think it's about all Wash is up for telling at this point in time.***

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><p><strong>Campfire Confessions<strong>

They've been back in Somalia for five months when he hears her willingly mention her capture for the first time.

She's had six nightmares since they've been back: two in the first ten days and four in the weeks since. Thankfully the only ones who know about them are Taylor and Collins. The only other female in their unit, she's taken up sleeping next to Wash just in case. She's also a light sleeper, which means that five of the six nightmares woke her up. She doesn't mind though. She had to wage her own personal war against PTSD after the majority of a platoon she used to serve with was massacred in a battle gone horribly wrong.

The good news is that at least Wash's nightmares don't cause her to scream or thrash or anything else that could compromise the safety of the unit. She had trouble breathing after one of them and it took Collins a few minutes to calm her down, but mostly she just tosses a bit and wakes up disoriented. She makes a point of being quiet, so Taylor always pretends he's asleep. But the truth is that he stays awake until Wash's breathing tells him she's sleeping soundly again.

During the day, however, she seems fine. She's a bit more tense when they're out on missions, but otherwise she's back to herself. Right now she's sitting on a fallen log with a grin on her face as she listens to Beckman tell a story. Their unit has developed a bit of a tradition that they're currently enacting. When they finish a mission and get back into friendly territory, the seven of them all sit down together and play what they've come to call the Question Game. The rules of the game are simple. On a person's turn they get to ask a question. Nothing is off limits and everyone must answer.

After rendezvousing with the nearby military encampment just after dark, the seven of them all sat down around a campfire to kick up their feet. Naturally someone eventually started a round of the Question Game. Collins had the last question, asking for favorite childhood memories, and Beckman is currently entertaining them all with tales of the stray dog he and his brother had adopted.

"Okay," Reese says when Beckman finally runs out of stories. His expression is serious and they all know him well enough to know that whatever comes next will be deep. "What was the scariest moment of your life?"

Silence falls as they all mull the question over. The sounds of the camp around them move in to fill the emptiness. Soldiers walking and talking and laughing and eating. As he listens to them moving about, Taylor is suddenly hit by a wave of homesickness.

"I'll go first," Reese says when no one else moves to answer. "Scariest moment of my life was when I found out my mom had cancer. They didn't think she'd make it through the month. She ended up making it two years."

"I was six," Beckman says. "My older brother got rushed to the hospital in the middle of the night because he had this pain in his side that was making him scream. I found out later it was his appendix. My mom was crying and all the doctors were running around yelling these big words. Nobody would tell me what was going on. I guess they all thought I was too young to understand." He pauses for a moment, caught up in the memory. "I found a space between the wall of the waiting room and one of the couches and I hid back there for the rest of the night until my dad came to tell me Matt was okay."

He falls silent and for a moment no one says anything.

"The first time I rode a rollercoaster," Harrison says finally. He grins sheepishly when he sees them all staring at him. "What? I was ten, okay?"

"Seriously?" Jenkins asks with a smirk.

"It was the Lightning Bolt down at FunLand," Harrison says. "You know, the one that has the vertical drops and goes so fast you feel like your skin's coming off your face?"

"Your mother let you on that thing when you were ten?" Reese asks skeptically.

"She actually didn't know we were there," Harrison confesses. "We told her we were spending the afternoon at the arcade."

"Don't you have be eighteen to get on that thing?" Collins asks suspiciously.

"My dad's rich," Harrison says with a shrug. "I had a big allowance."

That one gets a chuckle out of all of them. It's common knowledge that a young Harrison had used his dad's money to get himself and his friends into all sorts of places they shouldn't have been. Unfortunately that sort of cash had attracted a bad crowd. The sort that got him arrested for stealing.

"When the doctors handed me my firstborn son," Jenkins says. There's a twinkle in his eyes as he stares into the fire. "He looked up at me with these big eyes and it just hit me. I had helped to create this... this perfect little person. And it was my job to protect him and raise him and teach him how to be a man." He shook his head. "I was absolutely petrified."

"You're a great father," Collins assures him.

"Well I didn't know that then," Jenkins points out.

"Scariest moment of my life was the first time one of my men got shot," Taylor says. "There was a rebel camp between us and our objective. I made the decision to attack. One of my men got shot in the chest. At first I thought it had hit his heart, but turns out it barely missed. I realized that day that I wasn't just a soldier risking my own life anymore. I was also asking other people to risk theirs. I realized people could live or die based on my decisions."

"What happened to the soldier?" Beckman asks curiously.

"He's sitting right here," Jenkins says. He looks up and grins at Taylor. "I was ready to follow you to hell and back that day. I still am." Taylor claps a hand on his shoulder in a silent thank-you.

"We all are," Reese says firmly. The others all nod their agreement.

"I know we don't have the easiest job," Taylor says. It could just be the firelight, but it looks like his eyes are a bit misty. "But I don't know of a finer group of soldiers. You give far more than I've any right to ask, and I'm proud of every single one of you. There isn't anyone I would rather serve with."

Silence falls for a moment as they all bask silently in his praise. It's obviously that he means every word. Finally Harrison looks over at Collins and Wash.

"Okay, ladies," he says. "Who's going first?"

"I will," Collins says after a glance at Wash. She swallows before continuing. "I was with a platoon a few years back. One day we, uhm... We got pinned down in this firefight. They had lured us in and then surrounded us. We were way outnumbered with no escape. There was this girl named Anna that I'd gotten to know and she ended up beside me. We were both in the brush returning fire. And all of a sudden she just... toppled over. She'd gotten shot right through her forehead. There was blood all over her face." Collins swallows hard. "I just stared at her. Somehow I just... I _knew_ I was gonna die there. And I didn't want to."

"What happened then?" Beckman prods gently.

"Reinforcements found us," Collins says, shaking off the emotional pull of the memory. "They created a big enough gap in the line that we could escape. When we got back I tracked down Anna's family and offered my condolences. She deserved at least that much."

Beckman reaches over and takes her hand in his. They've become remarkably close lately, and if Taylor didn't know any better he might think they were falling for each other. But so far they've kept things fairly professional, so he's willing to turn a blind eye.

Wash clears her throat and Taylor's eyes widened a fraction. He's been expecting her to try to find a way to dodge the question. The others are obviously just as surprised. They all wait with baited breath as she stares into the fire.

"After they captured me, I woke up in a dirt cell," she says. Her voice is tight and she pauses between her sentences, but the others just wait in silence. "At first they left me alone. I guess they were trying to starve me into telling them something. Eventually they realized that wouldn't work, so they tried torture." She falls silent for a moment. Collins reaches up and begins to run her hand up and down Wash's back while they wait for her to continue. For his part, Taylor's hands have clenched into fists. If he ever finds the bastards who did this to her, he's going to make them wish they had never been born.

"I never told them anything," Wash says finally. "They tried a bunch of different things, but nothing worked. I held out because I knew you'd find me. But I waited and waited and it just kept getting worse... One day I finally realized you weren't coming. But I was wrong. You did come."

Taylor wants to say something, but he can't seem to find any words. Thankfully he doesn't have to. Jenkins beats him to it.

"We'll always come for you, kid," he says simply. Wash looks up and meets his eyes.

"I know," she says. Those two words say it all. Jenkins and Wash may butt heads nearly every day, but they still have each others backs no matter what.

"We all will," Beckman assures Wash. Collins pulls the young medic over for a firm side hug.

Reese has a twinkle in his eyes, and when he sees Taylor watching he gives him a brief nod. Suddenly Taylor realizes that he chose his question on purpose. Because he knew it would get Wash to talk. Reese is an intellectual at heart. He should have been an English teacher or a Psychology professor, not a munitions expert. But life had other plans. And considering that his well-placed question got Wash to talk about something an entire team of clinical psychologists couldn't, Taylor is gladder than ever that fate chose to intervene.

"Alright, you lot," he says, kicking into C.O. mode. "Time to hit the hay. We have a briefing tomorrow morning, so I expect you all to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 0600."

"Yes, sir!" Harrison says, giving a mock salute.

The seven of them get to their feet and wish each other good night before stepping into the tents they've been given for the night. Wash is the last and Taylor calls after her just before she steps in after Collins.

"Wash?" he says. She turns around and stands back up. For a moment words fail him. Finally he settles with, "Always."

"Always," she repeats. They both mean it with all their hearts. They'll come for each other no matter what. Because they're not just comrades in arms. They're family. And that's what families do.

"Good night, sir," Wash says. Taylor gives her a nod.

"Good night, Wash."

He watches her duck under the tent flap and secure it behind her. Then he turns and heads for his own tent. He has a feeling there won't be any nightmares had tonight.

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><p>I have a pretty good idea of where this story is going for the next ten chapters or so, but feel free to message me any ideas you may have or things you would like to see and I'll see if I can work them in somewhere. And while you're at it, how about leaving me a review? :) Please and thank-you.<p> 


	24. 2136 AD: You Only Live Twice

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and my original characters. Otherwise this would be a spin-off TV show instead of just fanfiction.

Author's Note: I'm just going to go ahead and admit that this fic will not be updated on any sort of regular basis. But I do have every intention of finishing it eventually. Sorry for the wait on this one. The week before last was crazy busy and then last week was my spring break, but I ended up spending it watching some friends of mine in a home school basketball tournament. They won their division, which I was pretty pumped about. :) Anyways. I finally got this chapter done and it's back to more action and intensity. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>You Only Live Twice<strong>

They're two weeks away from going home when Wash almost dies. Well, technically, she does die. Her heart stops beating for at least a full minute. But Wash is too much of a fighter to stay dead.

To be perfectly honest, Taylor isn't completely sure what happens. One minute they're making a clean getaway from a mission and the next the jungle is exploding with gunfire. What comes next is utter chaos. The rebels are everywhere and their only option is to keep moving. They try to set up an instinctive rotation, two people firing while the others run a short distance and then two more stopping and firing so the first set can catch back up. But that quickly goes down the hole. Before long they're just running for their lives, returning fire over their shoulders as best they can.

And then suddenly they're skidding to a halt at the top of an impossibly tall cliff with nowhere to go but down.

"What now?!" Harrison yells. Collins sticks her head over the edge and immediately jerks back. Of the seven of them, she's the only one with a fear of heights. A very strong fear.

"There's a lake at the bottom!" Beckman yells.

"How deep?!" Taylor calls as he and Wash unleash a hail of bullets into the trees. Reese finally gets his small rocket launcher into a firing position and a second later a portion of the jungle goes up in flames.

A bullet whizzes out of the trees and almost takes of Harrison's head.

"Does it matter?!" Jenkins yells as he snaps in a fresh clip.

"We can't stay here forever, sir!" Wash points out. The rebels are closing in fast. They can either stick around and be target practice until they run out of ammo or they can take a swan dive off the cliff and risk being smashed into bloody pancakes by the bottom of what may be just a shallow pool. Then a grenade sails through the trees and Taylor's mind is suddenly made up. He'd rather be a human pancake.

"Go!" he orders.

Harrison is off the cliff before he's even finished the single syllable. Beckman is right on his tail, pulling a screaming Collins down with him. Jenkins manages to get off a dive that would have been worthy of the Olympics if they were still in session. Wash leaps far out past the edge before falling towards the water below and Reese literally makes a horizontal dive across the last stretch of ground and off into the air.

Taylor is the last one over. He's not entirely sure if it's his own strength or the exploding grenade that knocks him over the edge. All he knows is that there's a boom loud enough to make his ears explode as grass and dirt are flying everywhere and then he's falling through the air. He just manages to orient himself enough to pull in his arms before his legs crash through the surface of the lake. He hits so hard that for a second he thinks he may have just shattered every vertebrae in his back. Then he's sinking rapidly through dark water. His feet touch the bottom and he kicks off, pushing himself back toward daylight. He breaks the surface with a splash, his empty lungs gratefully sucking in the blessed air.

He landed not far from the shore, and a minute later he's slogging his way through the shallows to dry land. The others have beaten him there. Harrison is flat on his back with his arms and legs spread out as if he doesn't have a single ounce of energy left in him. Reese and Jenkins are both sitting in the wet dirt catching their breath. Beckman is busy trying to calm down Collins, who is still yelling at him for dragging her off a cliff. And Wash-

Wait.

"Where's Wash?" Taylor asks as he steps out of the water into the dirt. Water rolls off his body, forming a large muddy puddle around his feet.

"She's not with you?" Jenkins asks. Taylor shakes his head. Harrison sits up and takes a quick look up and down the stretch of dirt between the lake and the jungle.

"Did she make it off?" Collins asks, momentarily distracted from her near panic attack.

"She was ahead of me," Reese says. "She should be out by now."

Taylor swings back around to the lake. If she's not on the cliff, and she's not on the shore, then she has to still be in the water.

"Wash?!" he yells. There's no sign of life coming from the lake. No bubbles and no movement. Even the ripples he created getting to the shore have all but vanished. There's nothing but open water.

"Wash!" Jenkins yells. He wades into the shallows beside Taylor, his eyes scanning the water. But there's nothing. And if she hasn't come up by now, then that means something is horribly wrong.

"Stay here!" Taylor orders as he turns back and slogs through the shallows. A moment later the lake is deep enough to swim and he launches out into the water. Long, even strokes quickly take him to the area where he surfaced. And still there's no sign of Wash. He sucks a huge breath into his lungs and dives under.

The water is murky and hard to see through. Taylor's eyes swing back and forth, desperately searching for a sign of his medic. There's nothing. Just water. He swims forward and the shadows ahead begin to turn into a shape. It looks like some kind of wreckage. A few strokes more cause the shape to solidify. It's the remains of an army rover. Must have gotten pushed off the cliff. It's obviously been there a long time because there's a small mountain of debris built up around it.

And then he sees Wash floating near the top of the rover. She isn't moving.

He swims toward her as fast as him arms will go. When he gets closer he sees that her foot in caught in some sort of net that is tangled in the wreckage of the rover. He grabs hold of her arm and gives it a tug, but her foot won't budge. By this point his lungs are screaming for air. He forces himself to let go of Wash so he can swim back up to the surface. After a few quick breaths he takes another gulp of air and dives back down into the murky water.

He swims down to the bottom to try and get a better look at Wash's foot. The net is a tangled mess that he has no hope of undoing. Wash's foot is caught fast, refusing to budge no matter how hard he pulls. Taylor grabs her wrist only to find that her heart has already stopped beating. She's already been under far too long. Time is running out fast.

A shadow appears and Taylor looks up to see Beckman beside him. He's the best swimmer after Jenkins, so it makes sense that he's the one who came in. He pulls a knife out of his belt and motions at the net. Taylor nods. He moves up and slips his arms under the unconscious medic's while Beckman begins sawing through the tangled mess. It's made of tough fiber designed not to tear, so Beckman has to work to cut through it. Time is quickly running out. Wash has been under for way too long and Taylor's lungs are starting to burn. Beckman is going as fast as he can, but the net is a mess. Taylor is on the verge of having to abandon Wash for another trip for the surface when Beckman finally makes it through the mess of netting. He grabs Wash's body and together they rocket towards the sunlight.

They break through the surface sputtering and gasping for air. Wash still isn't breathing. That's a bad sign. Taylor and Beckman haul her through the water towards the shore. They lay her on her back in the dirt, her feet only just out of reach of the water. The others quickly gather around them.

"Is she okay?" Harrison asked, worried.

"She's not breathing," Beckman says. He grabs Wash's medical bag and throws it to Collins. After the young medic, she's the one with the most medical training. "See if there's anything in there!"

Taylor has already started CPR. He pushes down on Wash's chest over and over before leaning down and pressing his mouth to hers. There's no reaction. No coughing up of water, no sudden intake of breath. Nothing. So he starts it again.

"Come on, Wash," he says as he repeatedly presses down on her chest. "Don't you give up on me." He tries mouth-to-mouth once more, but again there's no reaction. "Damn it!"

"Here!" Collins yells. She crouches beside him with an EpiPen. "Epinephrine."

Taylor quickly pops the cap and positions the needle over Wash's heart. He knows administering adrenaline directly to the heart can be dangerous, but there are no other options. Wash is already dead. And if they don't get her back fast, she'll stay that way. Taylor has never been a praying man, but he sends up a quick plea to whatever deity is listening as he jams the plunger.

They all wait with baited breath. For a painfully long second there is no reaction. Wash doesn't move. Taylor swears under his breath. She doesn't get to die here. Not like this. She's too young, damn it! She still has her entire life ahead of her!

He has his hands over her chest ready for another round of CPR when Wash suddenly begins to choke furiously. Water spurts of her mouth as she struggles to get air into her lungs. Collins gasps aloud and the others let out audible breaths of relief.

"Get her up!" Taylor orders. Harrison grabs her arm and they pull her into a sitting position. She hacks and coughs furiously for a moment until her lungs are finally emptied of water. Then she pulls in long gasping breaths of air. Finally she's able to breathe again.

"You alright?" Taylor asks. Wash nods. "You gave us quite a scare."

"Welcome back, kid," Jenkins says warmly.

"What happened?" Wash asks, still a bit disoriented.

"You got your foot caught in some wreckage and couldn't come up for air," Beckman explains. He motions at himself and Taylor. "We had to cut you out."

"Your heart stopped beating," Reese adds. "You were actually dead for a few minutes."

"Dead?" Wash asks. Collins holds up the used EpiPen.

"We gave you a shot of epinephrine to the heart," she explains.

"So what's heaven like?" Harrison asks with his usual cheek. Wash looks down at her water-logged clothes and then back at his grinning face.

"Wet," she says flatly. That gets a good laugh from all of them.

"Yep, she's fine," Reese says with a grin.

"We should get moving," Jenkins says. "We have a long way to go before nightfall."

The others nod in agreement and get to their feet. Taylor holds down a hand to Wash and she takes it, letting him pull her up.

"You are one lucky medic," he tells her with a shake of his head.

"She must be part cat," Harrison jokes as he picks up his bag.

"One life down, eight to go," Collins adds warmly. Wash turns back to Taylor, taking in his own soaked appearance.

"Thank-you, sir," she says. Taylor gives her a nod.

"I owed you one," he says lightly. "I think this makes us about even. Although if you go dying on me again, all bets are off."

"No promises, sir," Wash says, picking her medical bag. "Besides, I couldn't die yet."

"And why's that?" Taylor asks curiously as they start off into the jungle.

"Who would keep you out of trouble, sir?" Wash asks. Her tone is serious, but there's a twinkle in her eyes. Taylor laughs and claps a hand on her shoulder.

"Who indeed."

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><p>If you are enjoying this story, please leave a review. They guilt me into writing the next chapter faster. :P<p> 


	25. 2136 AD: Kiss With a Fist

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the mistletoe.

Author's Note: Sorry for the absence. My original work has been consuming most of my time. This chapter is a bit short, and for that I apologize. But it's pretty funny with some Taylor/Ayani fluff on the side, so hopefully that makes up for it. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Kiss With a Fist<strong>

It's five days before Christmas the first time she gets kissed. Taylor wishes he could say it's also the first time she punches one of her teammates, but the mental image of Jenkins' broken nose reminds him that wouldn't be entirely accurate.

They're back on leave again and there's a military ball being held that the entire unit is invited to. Taylor, of course, will gladly take any opportunity to dance with his wife. Seeing Wash in a dress and his son in a suit are just added bonuses. Wash even talks Lucas into letting her gel his hair, and by the time she's done he looks like a proper little gentleman. Taylor never does remember to ask her how exactly she learned to gel hair.

The ball is held in a proper ballroom with chandeliers and fancy place settings. Wash and Lucas are both in awe of the whole thing. The two of them quickly scarf down dinner, mostly just to satisfy Ayani, and move on to the variety of fancy deserts. Taylor is surprised either of them can even move after they finish. But the sugar must have kicked in because they both get up and head across the room to dance.

The music that gets played ranges across a variety of styles. Taylor dances a round with Collins before sweeping his wife off her feet. They twirl and laugh and step for several songs. Then Reese steals Ayani away and Taylor steps off to the side with Wash, who seems to be taking a short break from dancing.

"You having fun?" he asks. Wash nods.

"Absolutely," she says. The lack of her customary "sir" just goes to show how relaxed she truly is. A grin crosses her face and she points over to where Lucas is dancing with Collins. The two of them are obviously having a good time. They also look utterly ridiculous.

Harrison comes over to join them, munching on a cookie.

"Fancy meeting you here," he says with his usual humor. His gaze drifts over Wash's shoulder and his eyes suddenly narrow.

"What?" Wash asks.

"That corporal over there," Harrison said. "I don't like the way he's looking at you."

Wash and Taylor both turn around to see the man Harrison means. He's looking straight at Wash with a strange smile. Personally, Taylor doesn't much like it either. But he's also fairly confident that he won't try anything here. And if the man does, Taylor had no problem with knocking some sense into him.

"Stop worrying," Wash tells Harrison. "I can take care of myself."

"I know that," Harrison says. "But I still don't like it." Wash rolls her eyes.

The song ends and a new one begins. A few minutes into it, Harrison looks past Wash again and frowns.

"He's still staring," he says.

"Just let it go," Wash says in mild exasperation. She obviously isn't bothered by it. Harrison, on the other hand, is suddenly in full protective mode. He looks down at Wash with a sudden twinkle in his eye.

"Play along," he tells her.

Before Wash has a chance to ask what he means, Harrison has leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Wash stiffens briefly, but then she seems to lean into it. Taylor's pretty sure his jaw would have hit the floor by now if it wasn't so firmly attached.

Harrison pulls away a moment later with a grin on his face. Wash stares up at him, obviously trying to process what just happened.

"Is he still looking?" she finally asks. Harrison glances over her shoulder and shakes his head.

"Nope," he says, a satisfied expression on his face.

"Good," Wash says.

Her fist comes up in a sharp uppercut and connects with Harrison's stomach. Harrison doubles over as all the air rushes out of him. Taylor's eyes widen a fraction. Part of him is surprised, but knowing Wash he decides he really shouldn't be.

"Mistletoe," Harrison wheezes. Wash's brow furrows as she tries to figure out what he means. Then her eyes widen in understanding. She and Taylor both look up and, sure enough, they're standing under a sprig of mistletoe.

"Sorry," Wash says. She doesn't sound like it. Harrison straightens up and shrugs.

"I guess I sort of deserved that," he said.

"Just a little," Wash says drily. He laughs.

"Oh, come on," he says. "Can you honestly tell me you didn't enjoy it?" Wash's signature death glare tells him very clearly not to push his luck. Harrison quickly holds up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. It won't happen again. But since you've just deeply wounded my pride, I think you owe me a dance to make up for it."

Wash rolls her eyes, but she takes the arm he offers her and lets him lead her out onto the dance floor.

"What was that about?" Ayani asks, coming up beside her husband.

"Harrison tried to defend Wash's honor," Taylor tells her. "Wash then made it very clear to him that she can take care of herself."

"I see," Ayani says with laughter in her voice. They watch as Harrison gives a mock bow before taking Wash's hands and beginning to lead her through a dance. Ayani looks up at her husband. "Shall we join them?"

"Not just yet," Taylor says, turning and wrapping his arms around his wife so he can pull her against him.

"And why not?" Ayani asks, pretending to pout.

"Because I know something you don't," Taylor says cheekily.

"What's that?" Ayani asks. Taylor grins down at her. Then he looks up and Ayani's eyes follow his to the sprig of green hanging from the ceiling.

"We are currently standing under mistletoe," Taylor says.

"I see," Ayani says, a twinkle in her eye.

"What do you think we should do about it?" Taylor asks innocently.

Ayani's answer is to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss.

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><p>You guys know the drill. More reviews = faster updates. And if you have anything you would like to see in future chapters, please feel free to let me know and I'll try to work them in.<p> 


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